Bacardi had been nervous. It was not a feeling he was unfamiliar with, but he hated it all the same. Did other fathers-to-be feel this way? Or parents in general? Had Ruger felt this way while he waited for Macabre to birth him? Although plagued with his worries, the painted stallion did well to hide them. He patrolled constantly, his figure lean but his muscles hardened and the rocks of Tinuvel turning his hooves to flint. Never did he allow his wandering to take him too far from Soraya; her scent always in his nose or her round tan body in his sight.


Although he had drifted farther today than he meant too, it did not escape his attention when Soraya’s scent became increasingly hard to pick up. It shattered Bacardi’s confidence, and although he did not go dashing headlong across the territory, he did begin to search for her. What he found both startled him, and relieved him.


The beautiful child, though he did not know the gender yet, made a smile creep across his face. And Soraya, though tired, appeared to be okay. She made for a beautiful companion, but she made for a breathtaking mother. Bacardi found himself just standing there watching her, a smile on his lips and his golden eyes turned soft like honey. It was only as another approached the pair that he was shook from his daze. Though with it being a young mare, he didn’t feel his family was threatened.


“Hello, Poem.” he greeted the filly as he moved to join them, having heard her say her name. “Thank you, for watching over my family.” Bacardi’s gaze did not stay on the filly long though, having settled on Soraya once more and the child at her side.

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

"...speech"