Kendry recognizes the wariness in the younger stallion’s gaze. It’s sensible to be cautious of strangers, though admittedly not a common frame of mind for himself when engaging with others— perhaps because it is often Kendry who approaches others, rather than vice versa. His ears point toward the other as he begins to speak, genuinely curious to his answer, but they are interrupted almost immediately.
The perlino’s ears swivel to catch the sounds of twigs snapping, and his head turns likewise as the black and white-maned male raises his toward the disturbance. Then, boldly, the younger male leaves his place by the banks of the pool to investigate. Kendry allows him to take the lead, but cannot in good conscience let the boy stick his nose into potential danger without backup, and so the great draft follows him to the stand of trees.
There is no heavy taste of iron on his tongue as he flares his nostrils and draws in a deep breath, upper lip rising to accentuate the scents he pulls from the air. Only the odor of loam and horse and wet snow. He steps around the other stallion as he introduces himself, respecting the personal space of the other male as he moves forward to get a better look at whatever is clearly no threat.
A mare lies before them, deeper blue in color than even the shadows cast across snow with a bit of white crossing her withers. “Aren’t you cold?” Kendry asks, aware of the season’s early snowfall and the icy spray of the waterfall nearby. It’s a picturesque place for a nap but not likely a very comfortable one. |