15.3hh - Gypsy Vanner - Lead of the Inlet


Pagan pulled himself from the waters of the sea. Each trip he made this season grew more and more treacherous as the summer already started to sink into fall. His large hooves found their purchase on the rocky earth, at once the vanner felt and looked at home. Just as his body relaxed with the comfort of being where he belonged his attention sharpened to the dangers of his territory. Wolves had grown strong with the spring’s bounty, desperation had not driven them to test the stallion yet, but their songs had assured him of their watchful eyes. It was the moose that continued to nag at the man’s mind. Bulls had been watchful over their cows and antlers started to grow on the beasts’ brows. Concern nagged at Pagan every time he saw one of the stupid creatures come too close.

Even with the inherent dangers that were bound to living on Tinuvel, the gypsy could not help but love the land and yearn to share it with others. He waited patiently for Meara to come ashore, trying desperately to hide the excitement that made his white face aglow. This particular was a beautiful day in the Inlet. The air that surrounded them was pleasantly cool, the sun still high to light the earth. Wind and clouds danced together in the sky, creating wispy mare’s tails that swirled in the blue that reigned above them. Resisting the urge to pace in his desire to run through the tundra, witness the geysers, and race through the springs, Pagan stood on the shore, a proud smile on his face as he waited for the mare to join his home.

PAGAN