15.3hh - Gypsy Vanner - Lead of the Inlet

Understanding, the stallion took her lack of affectionate response in stride. Any number of things could have contributed to the reasons, but he had needed even that brief touch to assure himself that she was alive and that he was no longer alone in the Inlet. He nodded at her words, his pleased expression never leaving his face. Moments from a memory flittered across his mind, the times travelling beside a mare whose wounds were purely emotional but the time of silence was equally needed.

Pleasure at her compliments of his home filled him, he could not help but hold his head a little higher with pride. Dark gaze looked around, away from the cliff and the water, back to the land he had claimed. He took a step back the trail he had come up, flicking his tri-colored tail at her to encourage her to follow.

”I did nothing but show you a place you could go, and a path you could take. You did the hard work.”

Turning back to her, he tilted his head at her name. He pondered it for a moment as he studied her and their interactions thus far. ”Is Pirate your name, who or what you are? Or is it both?” For years he had lived up to ‘what’ he was. A gypsy wanderer who travelled to survive. He had been a stallion driven forward by homelessness, happy because of an endless sense of restlessness. Now he could feel his roots growing into the ground he walked on. The energies of the Inlet, the shifting of seasons it experienced, his own spirit being fed back into the earth created a tie that allowed the gypsy to shed the identity of the title.

”Either way, it is a pleasure to meet you, Pirate.”

PAGAN