The young colt of cream and ivory lifted his small muzzle from where he lay curled in the deep green grasses. Twin ears flicker back and forth atop his head at the sound of the mare's scream. Instinctively he rises, his small body shaking with nervous fright. Dark emerald green eyes glance up at his mother, drawing comfort in her nearness. He watches her now, judging from her reaction as to how he should feel, "Mm..momma?" he murmurs, his voice a whispered question. She turns and navigates towards the sound, pausing only when a lone black mare and her own young colt come into view. At the sight of another foal his age, Beowulf pricks his ears at the idea of making a potential friend. He loved spending time with mother and when father paused long enough in his patrols he was good fun too but well let's be honest... adults were so boring. Emerald green eyes dance at the possibilities but gathering the nervousness radiating from the black mare and the same alert tension rising from mother Beowulf felt certain the safest place he could be was in her shadow. Bumping his soft muzzle against her flank, the small white and gold colt folds his gangly legs beneath him, settling at her side but constantly watching Sanibel for any sudden movements... waiting.