ORHAN
yearling; mutt; buckskin; 15'1hh wfg; shiva
The tall stranger's words perplex Orhan. Unable to think deeply and move at the same time, the colt has no choice but to cease in his pacing, his little grey hooves planting solidly in the sand. He regards the beast before him with suspicion for some moments, before craning his neck around to scratch his teeth against the sleek golden fur on his barrel. While it has grown back in nicely since his recent bout of rain rot, the skin beneath still plagues him occasionally with dreadful itchiness.
Then there is another voice - a different voice - booming into the thick, warm air from right beside him. The courage he had mustered in order to speak with this single stranger is, evidently, too fragile to bear such an intrusion. Orhan's very blood vessels seem to sing with fear as he twists away from the source, eyes rolling to show the whites as he screams and bucks, before erupting into a vicious, sailing gallop away into the dusty nothingness, frosted tail flagging behind him. As quickly as he has come, he is gone, fleeing from the two stallions as though his life depends on it.
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