Pain burned like fire through the stallion’s shoulder, throbbing with a feeling he had never experienced before. Yet it was nothing in comparison to the guilt he felt as he hobbled away, leaving the pony mare against the stallion who had done this to him. But as they had practiced the seasons before, Bacardi knew that Valka was capable. More capable than him, thankfully, as he was left to watch in anguish as she fought for something so sacred to a mare. It is only when she was victorious, does Bacardi finally allow the breath he was holding to escape on a heavy sigh. A warrior in every way. The young stallion never thought he could ever measure up to his Skjaldmaer.


When the grey stallion left, and Valka stood alone upon the shoreline, Bacardi carefully made his way to her side. Each time he had to place weight upon the hurting shoulder, his teeth would grit and the muscle along his cheek bulge as he clenched them. Only when he stood at her side, allowing the weight to rest on his other legs, does Bacardi allow his muscles to relax and his head to drop. Black trimmed ears tuck into his tangled locks, and he barely lets his wolfish gaze look to Valka to make sure she is okay, before he looked out to the rolling waves.


“I’m sorry, Skjaldmaer.” he said quietly, his eyes fluttering shut as he could barely handle his failings. Much less her looking at him with disappointment or worse. “I do not deserve to be your Hersir”

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

"...speech"