The grulla pony, has hidden himself away, to nurse the few wounds from his battle. After the smoky inky colored brute, Olaf, had successfully won their battle. Dögun had returned to the herd, to check on the few remaining mares. Then he had taken to one of the trails, leaving the herd in the capable hands of Darius. He had used a lame excuse of checking the high meadows for more grazing, but deep down he knew, that they knew. Perhaps, it was the way he had hung his thick head in shame, or the slight tightness in his body language. He had left them, so that they could not see the breaking that was taking place within.
How long had it been? How many nights had passed since he had left? The darkness had consumed him, the only one who had kept him company had been, the voice. He tries to push it farther back into his mind, but it nags at him. Beckons him to just say one word, it seems as if the same darkness that his father had, was claiming him as well.
He raises his thick head high onto his muscled neck, ochre eyes search the darkening heavens. He knows, every sense within his body, informs him of the coming weather. For now, he had to push the depression from his mind. He lets his gaze scan out across the Inlet below him, he had holed up in one of the highest meadows. It gave easy access to the best lookouts. He could see from here, the Bay, they were the lowest point on Tinuvel, and if this weather was as bad as he was predicting. The herd, would have to move from the Inlet, quickly. Now with Freya, gone, he would have to lead the herd to safety. It was time for him to fulfill his duty.
Hooves dig into the frozen tufts of grass, he begins the descent to where the herd was last. He figures that Darius would of moved them, but he hopes he had not. He agilely, maneuvers the steep terrain. He enters the thick dark forest, quickly locating the trail that he had wound himself up here on. His muscles along his withers, had been sore, the first few days after the battle, but now they work as they always have. With each passing minute, the temperature drops, he can feel the cold beginning to wrap itself around the Inlet. As if in answer, the steam begins to roll off of his sweaty shoulders, and underneath of his thick mess of mane.
As the trail begins to level, he picks up a lope, his hooves reach out in front of him with ease and urgency. His nostrils breath in the fresh pine air around him, he scents for the herd, until their sharp oder signals him they are near. He slows to a trot, a sharp bugle rips from his mouth. As he begins to circle the remaining herd, Adelae, Azariah, Evinline, Silver, and Sigrun. His strides are short and choppy, as drops his head low, and begins to snake his head back and forth. His urgency was in the way that he pushes them, they all needed to head away from this clearing.
He only pauses for a brief second, as he searches for Darius. ”We must move out now.” In a gruff voice, he barks out. ”To the Bay, we will seek safety there. Do not fall behind. The storm is moving in fast.” With that command, he pins his ears into his dark mane. As if on command, a thick heavy snow begins to fall from the heavens. With each passing minute, the blizzard was worsening.
- pony king of the inlet -