Bacardi had lingered in his new home only a short while before he became bored with the solitude. He had neighbors, ones he needed to meet, though for some reason he felt hesitant, perhaps even shy. What if they didn’t want to meet him? Uncertainty burned through his veins, making his heart hammer a bit faster as he picked a random direction and began walking. Bacardi was not a fool, he knew this is why he should have been a second to someone, to learn what he was supposed to do. But that had not worked out, so winging it became the best option.


As he trekked across the grassy land dotted with trees, the guardians began to grow taller, and more in numbers. It was as the dominate scent of another became apparent that Bacardi realized he had finally made it into someone else’s territory. Stopping, he stood gazing at his surroundings. His best guess was this was the forest. Mother had told him this is where he had been born….. and where she had died. A new twist in his gut tightened its grip, and Bacardi gave a harsh snort. He couldn’t do this right now. He couldn’t be a child, crying over his mother, when he was supposed to be a leader. A herd stallion.


With new resolve in his golden, wolfish eyes; Bacardi let out a call that echoed throughout the trees. He hoped the leader here, or whoever else might approach, would not do so with hostility. Bacardi honestly didn’t know what he was supposed to do if they did.

three years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the savanna.

"...speech"