Falls

Winter was growing bothersome. Bacardi wasn’t usually one to be in a sour mood, but the young stallion could not help but feel the weight of it creeping over him. As he stood in the trees not far from the falls, his ears would randomly pin, and his weight would shift uncomfortably. His belly was full, even if the dead grass was not nutritious, and his coat was thick to keep out the lingering chill. But with other things weighing so heavily on his mind, if he truly thought about it, maybe it wasn’t really the weather that was bothering the young stud.


With a huffed sigh, his warm breath billowing up on the crisp winter air, the painted stallion began to move towards the falls. The slush upon the ground from the melted snow shifted beneath each step he took and tangled with mud at the tips of his tail and fetlocks. It made his legs feel heavier than they were, another irritant for the typically chipper fellow. Bacardi was only distracted from his inner turmoil when he spotted a beautiful steel grey creature ahead. It stopped the young stallion in his tracks and his ears pitched forward from their pinned position.


wow


Although Bacardi had met beautiful mares before, this one truly stuck out. Perhaps it was her build? Or just the color alone? He wasn’t sure, but he stood there and stared in the cover of the shadows for a few moments before he realized what he was doing. Heat flushed across his face and he looked away briefly, then walked out as if he was only arriving. Approaching the water’s edge, a respectful distance from the mare, he dropped his head to snag a drink. The cold water felt refreshing as it slid down his parched throat. Once satisfied, he raised his head and the droplets fell from his whiskered ebony lips back to the pool. As he finished his drink, he contemplated how to start a conversation with the bedraggled looking mare. Her appearance making it obvious she was new and had just endured a swim. But the stallion did not want to point out the obvious, or say something stupid and embarrass himself.

two years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the peak.

"...speech"