Falls

Solomon

The thought of her lingered in his mind far longer than it should have, for all the time that he spent with her. Fall had faded from the land, and with it had gone his chance to settle the golden temptress with his child, but that did not dampen his desire to own her. They should be in the Cove together, waiting out the whims of winter weather with their figures pressed together. His lips should be on her skin, in her hair, on her body. She should be his.

Instead, he'd spent the start of Winter chasing the ghost of a mare he should have taken home immediately. At the time, he didn't think the scrap that had broken out between Raider and Bjorn would have taken more than a few strikes, but it dragged on long enough that her trail had been lost to him in the surf. He'd ultimately decided to go home for a spell, and was glad ot have done so, or else he may never have found out about Coda's escape in time.

Not that he'd really found it fast enough. "Fast enough" implied that he'd been able to stop it.

The thought of the grey mare's insolence simmers his blood back into a boil and he trots through the winterized landscape with a sour expression. He needed to do something about her, and quickly, before the situation spiraled beyond his control. Mistakes had already been made on both sides, but the ultimate bottom line was that Coda was his, regardless of what the uppity Peak witches thought.

A scent jerks him from his murderous thoughts and he full stops in the middle of his stride, chiseled head whipping toward the source. She was here. And as promised, so was he.

Solomon calls out her name, even as his green gaze finds her at the Falls. He breaks into a lope towards her, admiring the sleek shape of her, the allure of her pretty face. His desire for her is no less than it was in the Commons, although it's components had shifted. The fertile shape of her and the scent of her heat had drawn him in before, but he'd had weeks to ruminate over his need to have her in his home. This possessiveness was almost stronger than the pull of mother nature.

As he slows to a trot, and then to a walk, he bows the elegant arch of his neck, disarraying the multi colored strands of his mane. There is no hesitation in his movement as he walks to her, confidently stretching his muzzle out to exchange breaths with the golden vixen and then immediately moving his muzzle to her body and tracing the line of her shoulder, where once his teeth had lingered. He does not bite her again, for he doesn't need to.

As far as Solomon is concerned, she is already his.

A cheshire grin spreads across his lips as he pulls away from her, looking to the mare that had taunted him so capably in the Commons for her reaction. "I told you I would come for you, Marzanna."

This time, unlike last, he does not look around for interruptions. He will not break focus from the reason he has come here, and will not allow himself to be tempted by the thrill of a fight, no matter how much the other party deserved it.

"I have been looking for you, but you never came home to the Cove." There is no accusation in his words; she may belong in the Cove but he had taken her reaction to his proposal as displeasure, and knew that she sought something else. "What is it that keeps you away? What do you want from me beyond the ardor I hold for you?"

Having waited so long to have her within reach again, he is torn between the raging desire to snake her back to the safe shores of the Cove, and a desire to play her game. He would take the first path if he must, but he'd much rather she follow along willingly.

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