Meadow

Hawke

xxy / six / grullo tobiano / mixed breed / 15.3hh

A solitary creature down to hir very bones, Hawke didn't know what had possessed hir to join in the stallion's expression of joy and freedom - particularly when hir own soul was so weighed down by sorrow. But perhaps that was the true purpose of the grullo's participation - it was a chance to escape from the desolation inside, if only for a few moments. Of course, after the performance was over, the dirt colored creature's self-conscious nature reasserted itself, and shi was certain that her company would be shunned. It wouldn't be the first time that Hawke had been chased off by a male, and shi could only assume that hir habitual exile would continue.

But in the instant before shi would have fled, the bay stallion's voice held hir in place.

You do not laugh at a stallion dancing in the snow? The grullo's functional eye gives a perplexed blink as shi attempts to process the words. That someone else might feel the way that shi does - wary of the judgment others of their kind dispense - had never occurred to Hawke before. And he certainly didn't outwardly seem like the sort to care about the critical opinion another may or may not form about him. But perhaps insecurities were something everyone suffered now and then. With that insight - as well as the glimpse she'd been given into her companion's inner nature - Hawke abandoned hir thoughts of retreat and visibly relaxed.

Uncertain how to respond to the stallion's question - or if a response was even desired - the grullo chose to preserve hir quiet. Hollowpoint had sought to teach his child that more could be learned in silence than in speech - and even now that the stallion was gone, Hawke held true to many of the lessons he'd shared with hir. Indeed, just moments later the stranger offered his name - and the place he called home. Son of the Peak. The word unburied names and events that the tobiano had not thought of in the years that shi had been gone. Mouse. Shi had not spent much time with the grullo mare by anyone's measurement - but because Hawke had interacted with so few in hir life, even the faces shi'd seen fleetingly were memorable.

"Son of the Peak?" The painted horse's androgynous voice repeated dubiously. "A mare named Mouse once told me that the Vulcans of the Peak live there without any man's protection." Though hir words could easily be construed as accusatory, the note of curiosity apparent in Hawke's voice makes their true intent clear. As one who understands that time and change are as intimate as the most devoted of mates, shi was simply trying to determine what transformations had taken place in the years since hir departure. Perhaps the women there had found that they could not survive without the protection of the opposite gender - or perhaps the stallions had driven them all away.

But if there was a chance that Mouse still called the mountain home, then Hawke was determined to go and see her again. "I am called Hawke," the multicolored creature continued after a pause. Shi had realized belatedly that hir words could be taken in a very negative light. This was hir own olive branch - and show of trust. "A wanderer with no home, and no particular destination." Hir gold eye flits briefly to the silhouette of the Peak at this last phrase. Shi had always yearned to stand on top of the world... but until shi knew the state affairs in that territory, Hawke was not about to seek a visit.

Shi had already been hearing whispers of war and had no wish to find hirself in the midst of such chaos.

*hir and shi are gender-neutral pronouns