Summers warmth had wrapped the Inlet for just a few months and now the chill was returning to the darkness of night. A sigh escapes his dark lips, ochre eyes settle on the distant forms of the herd, at least those who remained. A since of longing tugs at his heart, Freya, he had hardly seen his lead. He was beginning to worry about her, he knew that she was more than capable of taking care of herself. He still could not help but worry for his gilded beauty. As the few minutes tick by, he decides that it is time to gather the herd together. He needed to speak with his mares about their plans with the upcoming season, and more painfully, to see who remained.
He stretches out his stout legs into tölt of his ancestors, his hooves skim across the browning grasses. As the scent of the herd grows stronger, his excitement bubbles up from within his muscled chest. He had not interacted with them, for some time now. He had spent time selfishly away from the herd, wrestling with the battles within. His nostrils quiver as he nears the clearing, that he hoped the herd would be in. As the forest begins to thin, he spots a few of the familiar forms his mares. It seemed as a couple had buddied up. A nicker floats from his opened maw, grabbing at their attention.
As his voice echoes through the pine forest, he hopes that they had not given up on the Pony King.