SCARECROW

Scarecrow hadn't really expected for anyone to seek him out in the Commons, once he'd gathered his thoughts enough to realize where he had ended up. A storm had blown him off course, left him a tangled mess on the beaches of that land and it had taken him weeks of rest to regain the strength he'd lost. Even now, after the swim to the Meadow only hours before, he still felt winded and weak in the kneees.

The scarecrow of a stallion had stood on the shores of the territory for a long time before moving on, the salt having dried on his coat in the same pattern it had been on when he'd emerged from the bruising embrace of the ocean. Swimming anywhere was always... dangerous for him. Eating was a less than pleasant experience, but unfortunately remained the only reliable way to gain the necessary energy for migrating to a new place.

If only he could photosynthesize.

It's no surprise that the mare hears him before she can see him. His joints creak and crack after the extended period he stood motionless on the beach as just another sand colored lump. He feels like a walking one man band.

He dips his head in greeting, his shrewd eyes studying her as he closed the remaining distance. A pretty thing with a coat nearly pristine in it's paleness against the vibrant colors of the season around them. She, however, lacks the heady scent of heat. The thought of the season brings an unrelated, half smile to his lips, largely due to the fact that even he had managed to get some action this Fall. He was unlikely to see the mare again, but there was a passable chance that come spring, there would be a small awkwardly shaped creature with his blood tottering around the world.

It was almost enough to make him want to get his shit together and find a home. Almost.

"Being on your own seems risky these days, girl." He says it calmly as he comes to an awkward halt, the thick strands of his tangled tail whisking upward over the exposed mountainscape of his body. "Even in so-called safe zone like this."

He assumes there is some sort of impetus behind her decision, for he highly doubted that any mare, newly pregnant or not, would have any luck finding a home. It wasn't like a stallion, for whom a home was conditional upon one's ability to provide.