It was nearing ever so closer to winter. The forest trees that were once so green had turned into more vibrant colors, and soon after the colorful leaves fell to the ground, but not all the trees were so barren yet. There was still a bit of life in this Forest, which Jabs was grateful for. Giving himself a hefty shake, the draft managed to dislodge the pile of leaves that had settled upon his rump, though as he did this his hip unknowingly bumped into that of Remo's, startling the poor bay awake. The colt was looking around with wide uncertain eyes, ears slowly lowering until he shot a glance toward his father who seemed to fidget in place. Rolling his eyes, Remo stepped away from the older male, breaking from the trees to head toward the stream.

Jabs certainly was fidgety, the dying leaves had left him itchy and he could not reach that one spot that was obviously irritating him to death. Huffing with defeat, he looks forward and watches as his son moves away, a bit guilty he had woken the boy with his antics. A few minutes go by before he follows, but his destination wasn't the water, instead it was toward a well torn up spot of dirt alongside the stream. Not caring who could have been watching, Jabs sank down to his knees and proceeded onto his back, rolling and wiggling in utter joy that the dirt was scratching at his itches.

Remo already knew what his father was up to, and continued to ignore him. Lifting his white streaked face, he watches the trees to the other side of the stream, wondering if something good would happen today.