Kestral is the driftwood caught up in the surging tides. He tumbles from island to island, pushed by forces beyond his control, for his own whims are wild and unstoppable.
This day finds him, once again, on the common isle. An empty stomach draws him towards the meadow. There are other horses scattered about, some conversing in groups, and others rooting through the snow for a meal. Kestral pays them no mind, and joins the ranks of those rooting through the snow.
Kestral's coat has grown in thick for the winter. He appears quite round, and the wind sends ripples through his fur like waves across high summer grasses. His spots blur with the pale backdrop, almost disappearing. Kestral is well camouflaged this time of year, blending smoothly with the snow-covered world around him.
The winter sun reflects brightly off the snow, but even it seems dim to the radiant light that hits the meadow next. A flash of gold lifts Kestral's head, and he recognizes her right away. Kestral has mounted many mares, but this one is a rare beauty. He thoroughly enjoyed their one night of passion. His heart beats a little faster in seeing her again.
The swell of her flank tells of new life growing inside her. He won't assume the foal his. Many mares are known to couple with more than one stallion during their heat. He won't judge this mare if she is one of them. He's just glad they had their moment of fun.
Without a conscious decision, the stallions legs step out towards her. A welcome smile tugs at the corners of his lips, and he issues a nicker of hello. His ears prick happily forward, and he offers an outstretched muzzle in greeting.