Governor was experiencing his first breeding season unlike anything he had before. This time, he had the wild hormones coursing through his veins. Looking at any of the women drove him mad, but he dare not touch them. To be honest, he'd hardly know what to do anyways if he did catch one of them. Not quite a man, but not quite a child, either. He was stuck in limbo, in adolescence, and it was pure torture. The colt was smart, too. He wanted to stay on the stallion's good side (the one that lived here and Governor could never remember his name, if he ever heard it at all).

But there was something about Briar that made him behave. His hormones didn't explode when she was around. In fact, the thought of ever doing it with her made him feel sick. Briar felt like family to him. For reasons he can't explain.

To help his itch he can't scratch, he goes in search for her. Governor barely knows the Inlet, but he was getting better at recognizing places and certain landmarks. He goes to the beach, where a cold wind sweeps in from the ocean. Ice and snow cover every inch of the ground, but he can't see any hoof prints. He calls out to her, and only her.

Where are you?

The wound on his neck has begun to heal since they last talked. Fresh, pink skin awkwardly stretches over him. He has started to fill out, too. Though far from picture perfect of health, Governor was still doing better than when he had washed on this beach. That memory saddens him as he lowers his head and stares at his reflection.

He doesn't like who stares back.