The brilliant crimsons and oranges wash over the Inlet, from the lichens to the shrubs that grew wildly. Each night grew longer, the chill remaining longer into the morning, warning of the oncoming Winter. Soon the Inlet would be blanketed in a alabaster blanket of sparkling snow, and food would become scarce. So this is where the Pony King found himself, greedily snatching up the browning grasses. He knew that winter would try to sap from him the fat that he so needed to survive, but he has learned the best places to find the best grasses. But he was not alone, on the lower end of the meadow, the rest of the herd grazed. He chose to keep them close, constantly lifting his head and testing the wind. Insuring that no foreign stallions, attempted to drive any of his mares away.
Content that there were no dangers, he returns to cropping the grasses. His ebony tail swishes over his hocks lazily, his mind drifts to Precious, the silvery mare that he had brought home. He lifts his head and searches out the mare, there she stood quietly among the others. Perhaps it was time to get to know her better. Swallowing the last mouthful of grass, he makes his way across the clearing. His way was leisurely, a soft nicker escapes his lips. "Precious, would you walk with me?" His ochre eyes settle on her...Would she accept his invitation?