To be expected, that his friend would encourage his rowdier side. Doubly so that there was a nip to his shoulder that danced him sideways in one leggy leap and ended up halting his gallop just in time to stop a panted breath from his companion. "Well? What do you think Augs?" his friend asks, though at first August was hardly aware of what he could mean. Not, at least, till he realized that somewhere in the mad dash of sprinters, they had lost sight of the land and stumbled on a veritable smorgasbord.
Plants were crisp and green, smelling of wetter earth than they had ever known. Trees were abundant and flowers didn’t just peak through craggy rocks and in spurts around wateringholes. He smiles at it, a desert badlands child born to so little and seeing so very much for the first time. Beauty of the desert was different. It was never taking any of it for granted-- whereas here, there was effort to be noticed amongst the masses of lovely things.
"It is terribly, frighteningly, bold. If the land itself can’t keep itself in check, what is to say about the mares-- or the stallions for that matter!" Of course he is afraid of the temperament of others. He had always been, even when he strived to be the best-- and especially when he had done some winning at it despite his ‘unfortunate breeding’.
Montserrat had been there to see the struggle in him, the anxiety and the timidity that hid that exhilarated fool of moments ago. He knew what it meant to Augs that anyone would accept him, would find him to be of use. It was all he strove for in this life, to be needed in some small way. Perhaps this change was for the best, for he would never have had it in their old home. Not even with Tako, had the leaders had any say in it. "Somehow the beauty is too alien not to be afraid of it..."
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