i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies
i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife

-----Zhenya had left the forest as soon as Lyden had told her of his trade with the Bay stallion, Soljor. Part of her felt annoyed because she had only been in the Forest a short while before he sent her off. Then again, the other half of her was very relieved. At least now she didn't have to worry about telling him that she might leave, or just not bothering to return at all one day. On the other hand, this new stallion might not be as lenient as Lyden had been with his mares, allowing them to come and go freely.

-----Giving one last push, the buckskin mare comes ashore, feeling unpleasantly chilled from her swim. Ivory mane clings to her neck and rivulets of sea water race down her legs and drip from her nose. She gives a shaky sigh, allowing herself a brief moment of rest before continuing onwards into the Bay's center. She does not bother calling out for her new king. If he is as alert and watchful as a king should be, he will know she is here and come to her quickly.

------Stopping near a cluster of tall wildflowers, Zhenya lowers her head to pick at them, their salty taste unfamiliar and, frankly, rather unpleasant. She eats anyways, knowing this is her life now - she can't afford to be picky. Dark eyes glance around the Bay, taking in her surroundings. Patches of snow still litter the ground and a frigid breeze blows across the open landscape. What kind of place is this cold in the spring? Zhenya grunts to herself, returning to her grazing and trying not to get herself down too much.

five. georgian grande. buckskin tobiano [Ee/Aa/nCr/Tb]. pippa