It is in the last hours of the night when he finally makes purchase upon foreign soil, his thick legs pulling him from the water’s grasp. The golden stallion is greeted with the frigid air of winter, a shudder passing down his frame, and a harsh snort expelling steam from his delicate nares before dragging in unfamiliar scents. Fear does not pass over his oddly colored face or multicolored eyes, instead curiosity filling the orbs to mix with exhaustion. The giant of a stallion had swam for quite some time, not able to keep track of the distance he had travelled, but glad to find land once again. From the smells here, he was not alone, the land rich with the cologne of others. Endless possibilities suddenly laid out before him, and a smile curled his sooty lips.
Sand began to mat the feathers upon his legs as he ambled down the beach, his head held high and his ears erect. He peered into the trees, not yet entering them, as he looked for opportunity. There; he finally found it as rustling sounded beyond the wall of vegetation. Finding an opening to squeeze his body through, he followed the sound but did not call out. Like a hunter, he stalked after his prey, but not with the elegance of grace or silence. The beast did not hide away his presence, letting all that was here know of his existence. Only when the foliage gave way to an open field did he stop, unsure of what he had been following, but impressed with the expanse of grasses and horses even if the waving yellow stalks were dead.
With another snort, the stallion shook his head, the wet locks of his silver mane flinging water through the air. As far as he could see, none drew their focus to him, and he stomped a fore-hoof in agitation. He would not be ignored, and with a bellowing call, he demanded their attention to be brought to him.
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