She need not fear being alone, for as usual, Solgar is very near, hidden away in the trees.
The one difference between now and most other occasions is that usually, when the stallion is hidden away from the rest of the herd, his eyes are half-closed and his ears are lolling to the sides while he attempts to catch up on some sleep. But now, with the onset of the breeding season and with the lengthening nights, he is far more alert.
Particularly since Neassa had allowed him to mount her once already (and she is the only mare who had done so thus far), he stays near her, on the slope of the little hill she is perched atop, enjoying the shade from a copse of trees. He cannot stop thinking about that day or wondering if he should chance making a move again. Though the red roan mare has not been around long at all, and though he knows almost nothing about her, every day is the same. He wants it again.
Eventually he has got himself into such a state of excitement that he cannot help but move out from the shelter of the trees into the fading sunlight, revealing himself to the mare. His dark eyes are bright, his nostrils flared, his ears pricked with interest; he nickers to her as he approaches, and presses his nose against her neck to take in the sweet heady perfume of her scent.
He is positively radiating with heat and expectation; it's all he can do to stop himself from just throwing himself atop her like a beast.
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