It had only been a few days since his emerging from the dark pine forest. He had spent a few weeks, alone, hidden away from the prying eyes of everyone in the Inlet. The last few months had really taken a toll on the grullo, from the disappearance of a few of his herd mares, to his failed battle for Macabre, his stress level had reached its breaking point. A sigh escapes his dark lips, but now it seemed as if a new day was dawning. He could feel his muscles working as his patrolled the border, stretching out he moves into a relaxed lope. The wind whips his ebony mane into a messy tangle. As his hooves find their familiar path, he moves down the mountain trail with the agility of a horse who has taken this path many times.
As he nears the lower trail that leads to the Bay, an unfamiliar scent wafts in on the breeze. At least the scent was feminine, he was of course in no mood for an intruder in the Inlet. Switching his course, he slows to a light footed trot. His muscles thick and bulging underneath of his fuzzy hide. As the scent grows stronger, his steps take up a prancing beat. Each stride flowing, as his head dips lower to his chest. Steam rolls from his dark nostrils, an excitement vibrates through his body.
His ochre eyes fall on the dark form of a filly, her years expressed in the sweetness of her face and her unfulfilled height. (As if he has room to talk about height). As the distance closes, he clears his throat, if she had not known he was there she would now. "What brings you to the Inlet, Love."