stallion | yearling | arabian mutt | red roan | 14.3 hh | the lagoon | rade x fatalé

Apparently, he was a one-man welcome team. Léon found himself usually at the edges of the Lagoon. Whether it was because he was looking for answers, debating on leaving the Crossing, or just getting at the fresher grasses the border with the Meadow held, he seemed to be the only one concerned with those who came in and out. Nothing too interesting had been happening lately. Life was boring and predictable.

The arab-mutt wandered about lamenting his features. He was little. He was light. He was smaller than colts that were younger than him. That was a bad sign. His dished face was at least masculine so he wasn’t going to be mistaken for a female, but the roan patterning was something he wasn’t sure he liked. Yeah, it made him look like his dad, and in some ways his amber eyes were making him more and more cat-like in a strange way. He just felt out of place in his skin. Not exactly unusual for teenagers.

However, when he spotted the dunskin he was intrigued. This guy seemed to know where he was going and didn’t pause as he crossed the border except to look around. Interesting. Well, if he was looking for someone, better not disappoint.

“Hello,” Léon greeted as he stepped out to meet the other stallion. “Can I help you?” He decided not to offer up his name right away. That seemed to have fallen on deaf ears the last few times. He’d feel things out a bit further. Figure out what this guy wanted and point him in that direction.