A new home. A new life. And his first mare. All secured with such rapid succession that Solgar himself can scarcely believe it.

He has spent the larger part of his life in a near-constant state of apathy. Once, he had even completely sworn off women, useless as he had found them for anything but sex and babies. But he is middle-aged now, and mentally he feels even older. Back on the continent, he had woken up one day, seen the sunrise, and thought to himself, Am I going to spend the rest of my sunrises alone? Is that what I want?

The decision to live the life of a real stallion before he passed into the afterlife had been made on a whim. Solgar has never been the sort of dilly-dally over decisions.

And so now he finds himself here, shivering in the cool spring breeze and watching over the sweet young buckskin he'd found in the commons. She's not a child, of course - he hardly needs to watch her every minute of every day, even if he can hardly believe she's really his - and so for the moment he spends his free time dozing in the shade of the trees, alone but for his thoughts.

Even in spring, when everything is just bursting into bloom and the women are dropping their foals, it is eerily quiet here in the inlet. Few animals reside here but for the tougher specimens. In fact, the only other livings things he's seen in the days he's been here - besides Vanille - are a single bad eagle soaring overhead in the morning, a family of small, squeaking rodents, a snowshoe rabbit, and a fox shedding its winter coat.

The emptiness suits him, at least.

The sudden cry off to his right startles him so deeply that he almost bolts. He perks his ears and peers through the shadows of the evergreens in an attempt to spot the summoner, and can just see her, her golden coat gleaming in the late afternoon sun. This must be one of the originals, he thinks to himself sourly, before heaving his scarred body out into the open to greet her.

"You didn't have to shout, I was right over there," he tells her in a gruff voice as he approaches. Solgar takes a moment to look her over. She's a hair taller than him, but that doesn't matter. Her face is marred by a striking splash of white that reminds him of the eagle, and she's tall and slim, boasting bloodlines that have been improved by human hands. A bit bright and shiny for my taste, but she'll do.

"I trust I don't need to introduce m'self. Now, which one are you?"