Meadow

It had been quite some time that he had made himself a companion to Ylva and her son. It had been a long time since he’d found cause to battle for more than upkeep of his ability. It had been a long time since he’d had any cause but to watch over Ylva at night, pretending to be doing no such thing - and knowing she likely only tolerated the ruse to accommodate his odd nature.

It had been a long time, but it felt not long enough. Another fall had come and was slowly waning, his eyes ever on the watch and his ears ever vigilant. It was almost as if he could forget the place that housed the stories he’d told them at night before bed. It was almost as though he were some strange stallion he’d never met before, not the disgraced knight with no king or queen or lady whose favor he’d earned.

His long mane hangs to the top rounds of his chest now, waving and curling and unfurling to their red tinged tips. A sign of his heritage being unlike the norm of his breed. He wondered idly, sometimes, if Ylva saw that as a mark of ill breeding as well. Sometimes, he flirted with the idea that maybe he ought to pose in the right light this way, or bathe himself of travel dust to gleam his rich black color more starkly.

He thinks it is silly at his age to preen for any level of lady, but somehow Ylva seemed to naturally incline him to that behavior. She was stern, firm, but still she was fair and not unkind. It made him feel as looked after as he tried to make her feel. A few times he had returned with bruises and scratches from his exploits in turning away predators, but he never gave hint to the severity of them. Bad form, he thought.

Not this time though.

A couple of wandering wolves intending to make a thing of their romance had found him in the dawn hours when he had wandered off on one of these thinking expeditions - pondering the lady and her boy that traveled with him as their shadow. They had thought to take him from his self-chosen charges and he had given them the whatfor he was meant to.

He tries not to get too close, staying in the shadow of the trees as she grazes, remaining so that the wind brought her scent to him instead of the reverse. She was no fool, but still he tried. "I am back. Sorry that my walk took a little longer than I thought."