A light breeze picked up and teased the grasses, and Montserrat found this to be ample motivation for a bit of a stretch. Straightening his long, white legs, he extended the front pair out as much as he could muster, rolling onto his back and displaying his narrow spotted ribcage upward for the sun to shine upon. He stuck his muzzle back in the direction of his friend and emitted a light chuff, as if to acknowledge his ridiculousness before flopping back over on his side.
“Well not like… here here,” he emphasized in response to August’s question, as if there was indeed a great distinction between those two words. “I mean, just… around here.”
Despite how lovely a good roll in the grass was, as he had only just now discovered, Montserrat still wanted to explore a great deal more. He had a feeling these lands were expansive—if not, surely someone else would have noticed them by now. Perhaps they were off elsewhere, galavanting on the sands that August was missing.
He lifted his head and peered over his shoulder, deciding perhaps they should continue their travels. With a bit of effort, the painted stallion popped up off the grass and shook loose the stray dried grasses that clung to his mane. “I bet you we can find some sand,” he challenged him with a grin.
MONTSERRAT
|
|