Solomon

Winter came with a strange mix of relief and regret.

Make no mistake, the tobiano stallion had made his mark on these Lost Isles in the space of a few months, and his body showed the wear of it. The constant travel had sapped the covering of flesh over his ribs and hardened the muscles beneath. Solomon had made a place for himself in the Cove. Nine mares would carry his children into the fall. Six mares had joined his new herd. By the numbers he'd done quite a bit to ensure that his legacy would not be easily forgotten, even if something were to happen to rob him of it.

He couldn't dismiss the thought of how fragile it all was at the moment.

The Cove and Shaydowfax had been a strategic decision, not an emotional one. Solomon's dislike of mare leaders had not wavered, nor did he find himself particularly proud of why he'd chosen the buckskin mare. She was handsome, that was certain, but she did not belong to him as a mare should. She was independent and willful, so certain in her belief that she was just as good as the boys that she refused to see reason and to understand that this was hardly so.

Each day her stomach swelled more and more, putting her evermore at a disadvantage if someone was to attack. The thought had crossed his mind more than once, but he refrained, for now. Despite her outlandish beliefs, the mare was good at fighting and defending what she believed was hers. And if she wanted to call the Cove hers for another few months, who was he to judge? As long as she left him and his burgeoning herd alone in the Spring as promised, Sol wasn't going to rock the boat.

Now though, was the time for allies.

Fall had been too chaotic, and he'd been too busy filling his coffers with beautiful women to really care about other males. Apart from a brief encounter with the short grullo and insane roan in the Commons, he'd had precious little interaction with other males. As his mare's heat departed and snow began to blanket Tinuvel in earnest, however, he decided that it was high time to change that.

Solomon crosses the border of the Tinuvel kingdom, his gaze alert for the so-called King of the island. He'd heard much of Warsaw's exploits in his travels, and from what he understood, they shared similar beliefs. Solomon wasn't sure he'd start a war over mare's leading herds unless he got to take spoils from it, but he could see himself joining it if the incentives were right. He highly doubts that a stallion capable of mobilizing multiple allies had done so with the base purpose of kicking in a few heads.

The tobiano flicks the long strands of his dark tail across his hocks before calling for Warsaw in an open area, where he can monitor any arrivals. After all, he wasn't entirely sure how the King would react to a new stallion's arrival.

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove