Winter had often brought with it a sorry reminder of where the red stallion had come from. His roots, though they had started somewhere far away and had disappeared the moment his bastard father had fallen into the sea, had been founded on the icy island of Tinuvel. It had been a long time since he had bothered to take the salty pathways of the sea to visit his alleged homeland, and even though he suspected there were still others that remained somewhere in the vistas of the cold island, he had no desires to return.

This was his home now, and before him the creek that ran beneath the thick sheet of ice was his. Vercingetorix had begun to believe that everything in the forest was his, and even if it was hard to tell himself that the women in the forest that bore his children were his as well, he had decided it was best to tell other stallions different. To let everyone know that he had numbers behind him, and that they were his, and he would protect them.

Pondering such things while staring at the hard, glazed surface of the creek, the soft crunching of snow somewhere in the trees behind him alerted him to the approach of another. Due to his recent isolation, it was uncommon that he found himself in the company of other horses, and so when he turned his head to the side to see who was approaching, he was somewhat surprised to see the most silent of his feminine companions.

A long time ago he had accepted her lack of a voice, and assumed that it was either due to the resolute decision that she should be silent for the rest of her life, or that she was simply incapable of speaking. Either way, her company was more welcome than the company of some others at this moment. As she came to his side, the red dun pushed his face towards her, noting her distended sides and her slow pace and wondering if perhaps she was unsure about approaching him. Greeting her with a soft nose against her shoulder, he watches as she steps upon the ice. Enjoying the quiet for a little longer, he finally speaks up. “What have you been up to these days?” Vercingetorix speaks softly, as if trying to leave the forest undisturbed by their presence. “Keeping warm I hope?”

stallion, red dun, crossbreed, fifteen and one hands, russell.