He relaxes the crushed nose into the earth, grasses tickling up his nose. He blows hard against them, flattening them for moments at a time, eyes half mast and closing as he relaxes. Montserrat had never made him feel less, made him feel foolish - only guided him and comforted him. It soothes him to follow, something that had been his undoing among the Akhal-Teke purists they had left so recently. He had never taken to leading, had never been hot-natured enough, had never been individual enough, had never been confident enough. He was a good workerbee, but that did not provide the comforts in life he had yearned so dearly for. Tako was too good for that kind of stallion, muddied blooded and too cleaving by half. So here he is with someone better equipped to survive and help him survive.
"That’s right! This place seems like it has everything we need. We could stay here. Make this place our new home." Auggie lifts his head, ears flicked forward, clearly considering. "Here?" He considers it, a little uncomfortable thinking of a life entirely uninsulated, but perhaps if Montserrat was there it would not be so bad. "Maybe for a while," he accedes cautiously, "Though I think eventually I will miss running on sands, being ‘part’ of something bigger, being useful..."
He doesn’t say that the minds of too-well-supped horses still concern him, that it bothers him to think of never being able to use the speed he built up over years and years of trying to improve his abilities for something above play… He thinks his friend would laugh, rather than understand why he’d want to make use of something born out of their apparent slavery. Sometimes he loved, and sometimes feared, Monty’s apparent lack of motivations.
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