For years, as he grew up, he listened to his great grandfather speak tall tales of this land. Of these people. He ventured here, hoping to find something that would feel like home, whether or not he would find it, he wasn’t sure. He only hoped that he’d make a home of this place himself.
The lands were enormous, that was for sure. The large island, surrounded by islands around it, the territories. He was not the kind to run a herd, maybe he’d be best as running along side another, or beneath someone as an aide, but he was not built to cope with the responsibilities of a herd of his own. He was never one to fight, never one to make a big fuss about anything really. He stood in the midst of the tall trees, his breathing slow and steady, eyes closed. Feeling the wind rippling through his mane, feeling it pulling his tail. The smells of the thick trees brought him home, soothing the ache in his soul, the emptiness that ached due to not being home anymore. The falls had become the place he chose to stick to, most days. He would wander the meadows for the ease of keeping his mind busy, but the thick trees called to him.
He opened his pale eyes, stepping out of the trees. There were a few leaves and twigs stuck within his mane, twisted and knotted. They would be a pest to deal with at a later date. He left the sanctuary of the trees in the falls today. Heading into the vast view of the meadows. Walking the edge of the island, not quite into the sand, but close enough that the salty air was brisk. He stopped along the edge, eyes casted out to the sea, listening, ever listening. Both with his soul and ears. There had to be a reason that great grandfathers stories urged him here. There was something waiting for him here, he knew it, but what, he had no idea.
He was getting impatient to see what the world had in store for him. He missed the tight knit group of family at home, the way he felt like he fit in like a glove. Here, he felt out of place and lost more times than any.