The stallion had claimed a territory; he honestly couldn’t believe he had. But the need to keep a united front with the coming war was strong. War; like he hadn’t done enough fighting in his lifetime? With a snort of agitation, the black and white stallion lurched himself off into the churning salt-waters and towards the crossing. If he was to have a territory, then he would need a herd. What was the point otherwise?
As Ruger drew himself up onto the shores of the Commons, he could smell a mare’s perfume strong on the air. She had been here recently; her hoof prints still fresh in the sand that turned and lead further inland. Not bothering to shake the water from his coat, Ruger set off along her path at a lofty trot until he spotted her up ahead. Ebony ears bury beneath his two-toned mane as he drew up alongside her. Reaching over, the stallion scraped his blunt teeth lightly across her skin to mark her as his. Dropping his head into a snaking position then, Ruger said nothing as his golden wolfish gaze glinted dangerously if she did not obey. He would take her home whether she liked it or not, but from there they would discuss her future.