When Bacardi had left the Savanna, and Lucy had not said she wanted to come, he had only assumed she wanted to stay. The quiet of the open grassland seemed more fitting to the mare. Although he did not wish her ill-will, he honestly did not expect to see her again. He could barely believe Soraya had wanted to come with him either. So when he heard the weak call rise from the shoreline, it had twisted both shock and dread into a knot within his gut.


Making his way to where he had heard her call, Bacardi did not waste time, though carried himself across the rocky land at a careful trot. When he finally spotted her lying upon the shore, his heart caught in his throat and guilt nearly shattered it. "Lucy?” he said as he approached, slowing to a walk a few strides away until he stood over the wounded mare. His golden eyes drifted over her terrible appearance, feeling that this was his fault. Bacardi shouldn’t have left her behind.


"Just rest.” he said, though didn’t reach out to touch her. Before, that had always frightened her, so instead he just offered his presence to try and give her comfort. "I won’t let anything else happen.” Later, he could ask her all the questions that now swirled in his head. But he would not drown her in them, much as the sea had clearly tried to do to the poor mare.

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

"...speech"