Cause this time's only borrowed,
I got one life and I'm gonna live it right..
Stocky legs stride, pumping his grullo body across the tundra grasses. Flicking a single ear at the fiery mare, she seethed angrily beside him. Soon after he spoke, she spat her words menacingly at him. Tiny? A breeder? Also throwing in that a breeder could not lead a herd. Unsure of her terminology for a breeder, he assumed it was because of what hung between his legs. "I would not call myself tiny, I would say more like height challenged. Handsome. But certainly not tiny." Pausing, his words controlled, hiding the bit of irritation that bubbled beneath the surface. Shaking out his ebony mane, he tries to desperately chase his irritation away.
Letting his gaze wander over the tundra that spread out before him, her words almost were inaudible to him. She speaks again about his title, being the king of the Isles. His wheels slowly begin to turn, trying to figure out what she was getting at. Shifting his gaze back towards the mare, than he realizes the words he had said, about being the king of the islands. He had not meant to utter these words, but was unsure if he should correct her. He was the only pony king of the Islands. "I am the only pony king of these isles." Pausing he considers his next words, he could lie to her and tell her that he was the king of all islands, but he knew that could easily come back around to bite him in the haunches.
Lifting his fuzzy wide set head upwards his attention shifting back to the chestnut at his side. "I do not claim to rule each of the herds within. It would be a inconvenience to deal with so many mares." Tossing his head, he knew that little comment would probably set her off on another breeder rant, but he figured it also might quiet her as well. At this moment he preferred the latter.
Icelandic | Grullo | 13.2 | King of the Inlet