Finally. It was his, all his.

O Melhor trotted through his Paradise, tossing his head and swishing his tail. His palm trees swayed gently in the wind, shifting the sun’s light. Everything had been turning his circles, but now he felt ready to get out there again. He had only made one enemy, the black boy. He was stupid enough to fight O Melhor, but to try and get his home back a second time? The boy was crazy, and the coffee colored stallion would tell him that if the boy showed up again. Of course, O Melhor had approached a mare to try and call her his own.

It didn’t take long for the mare and her colt find themselves alone again.

Yes, O Melhor knew Piedoso would get after her. O Melhor always tried to be perfect in his god’s eyes. Had he messed up when Vôo ran him out? And when the rest did too? He shook the thought loose from his mind, turning to Macio. He wished she was here. It was so lonely and no one seemed to notice him. What had he done wrong? Did no one else believe that he was a gift? Were they all mocking him? O Melhor stopped, pondering the idea.