Solomon

Daciana's words loomed heavily in his mind as he watched his herd, the threat she felt gaining amorphous form in his mind. She feared the darkness brought by Warsaw's unhappy family would doom them all, and while he was not particularly given to superstition, he could feel the tension bubbling across the entire herd. In truth, he hadn't expected the old Inlet herd to stay for as long as they had. The King's pride had been badly wounded by Bjorn's betrayal, and it seemed to have cut some of the life from him. The wolf attack had certainly not helped, but Solomon watched each day go by without a return challenge from the grey stallion with growing dismay.

Having three separate herds existing in one territory frayed more than one set of nerves, and the drama of Ysabel's challenges had not done much to soothe his mares either. The last thing he needed right now was upheaval, and yet she was dishing it out in spades, complicating the already delicate situation between the land's leaders. He understood her motive, but he wondered if she had paused long enough in her search for vengeance to consider the effects it would have on those that now looked to her for protection.

His body still bore the marks of his loss to Bjorn and it was not without pain that he walked down the border of his home. Solomon had taken to seeking sustenance at the far edges of the land, where the trees and scrub were denser and harder to navigate so as to leave the easier food for his family. It was perhaps not the fastest way to recover from a hard fall season, but it gave him the time to think and allowed him to monitor the borders at the same time.

Had it been Solomon in Warsaw's position, he would have already sent his son's out to secure at least somewhere that they could call their own. In fact, the tobiano had half expected one of the stallions to challenge Valka for the Bay. While it was not the Inlet, it was at least still on Tinuvel, and it would've been a sound investment that could have benefitted all of them. The boys could have learned to rule a herd while Warsaw fought for the Inlet back, and then could have used the land as a tool for gathering more like-minded individuals once they regained their homeland. Not only that, but it would have removed one more mare from a leadership position.

That being said, he had voiced none of these thoughts to Warsaw.

A strange sort of protective feeling took over each time he thought of Valka, and as much as he would like to deny it, he didn't want anything to happen to her. This was, in part, why he had not retaliated for the theft of Mazarine despite how deeply the loss of the red mare rankled him. Solomon found himself wryly amused at the situation they found themselves in, all things considered. How often had he preached to his allies that a pregnant mare was an easy target? Vulnerable and weak to attack while heavy with foal, and therefore easy to eliminate? It was a good portion of why he didn't believe that mares should lead at all.

And yet, how quickly those tables turned once it was his own child growing in her swelling belly.

The thought of the short mare had his gaze wandering back to the nearby border between the Cove and Bay. He still ran patrols that looped down his borders and into hers, but they had become less frequent of late as he recuperated from the fall season and the wolf attacks. His thick winter coat did well to hide the slight hollows of his hips and the ribbiness of his figure. Now though, the thought of a long jog was appealing, if only for the change of scenery.

His head lifted as he crossed the border, only to almost immediately spot the pony mare just beyond an outcropping of rock. Solomon paused for a long moment, thinking back to the first time they had spoken, when after scuffling with Bjorn and then with her, they had given into the animalistic call of their own hormones. A lopsided grin formed on his lips at the memory, but he whickered to her in greeting before picking his way down the rocky path to join her.

"Valka," he says by way of greeting as he approaches, eyes twinkling. He is not sure how she will receive him, all things considered. They had not exactly parted on good terms after she had challenged for Mazarine, and his pride was still nettled by his loss to her. Even his win in their practice scuffle had not fully removed his annoyance. Still, he does not hesitate to offer his muzzle for an exchange of breath as he settles near to her, figure tense in case she were to react harshly. He should be angry with her, by all accounts, and yet he is not. Not entirely, anyway. Perhaps the recent drama in the Cove has left him hungry for simple conversation, but either way, he does not seek to fight with her today.

"You seem to be doing well." And she did, as far as he could tell. Her herd was growing, and while it was not the same sort of explosive growth that his own herd experienced, it was clear that she was not stagnating in the Bay. Her figure, too, while swollen with the child he'd placed there, seemed well adjusted to the cold of the season. "I hope the wolves didn't make it this far east."

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove