The Lost Islands
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three lies he will offer you. *

the coffin is moving

Ah.

Asp danced away as the heavy mare tried to land a bite on his rump as if she were trying to push him toward her ragtag collection (two horses) of a herd. He bristled, his head ducking as he snapped his teeth at her, letting her know that he had little to no interest in joining her group of friends.

“Chill out, lady,’ he spoke into the frosty air (and taking a moment to appreciate the pun.)

“I’ve no interest in stayin’ here. Too damn cold, and I’m not one for cuddlin’ with strangers.”

He’d no idea how the giant was able to find enough food to survive in the wild (just as she wondered how he survived alone,) but to each their own. His ears pinned back at the thought of having to act submissive to this hulking, silly mare.

...Nope.

Though it would be terribly amusing to wander from herd to herd, stirring up trouble all in her name--just as payback for the slight. But Asp was in a forgiving mood--or maybe it was the chill in the air--and so he let himself come to a halt a few yards away.

“Was just passin’ through for old time’s sake. Thought I missed the Inlet.”

He paused, considering for a moment as one of his front legs dug around in the snow.

“Turns out I don’t.”

asp *
five . quarter horse . red dun [ee/Aa/DD/nO] . stallion . homeless . played by hashtag




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