Ruger
stallion | 15.3hh | EE aa TT | son of the wolf
To Ruger, there were no similarities at all. She had not greeted him as a stallion would; or at least the stallions he had met before. Obsessed over territory, of breeding rights, of the numbers that resided in the herd. Mares had such different instincts, but perhaps Persephone understood that with the slight playful smile that tugged at her lips. Ruger gave a soft snort of humor in reply but did not linger on the subject.
“I have no doubt the forest holds many secrets; but even those are hidden from me.” Ruger replied as he looked away from her to let his lupine gaze drift up through the tops of the trees. How many lives had been born beneath these bows? Lives lost. Blood shed. Giving a shake of his head, the stallion brought his gaze back to the current keeper of this land. “His name was Olaf.” Ruger replied. “An overzealous colt sent to collect a debt; I of course failed, but thankfully it wasn’t the large stallion that I met. Otherwise I might have a few extra scars to carry.”
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