As Bacardi stood at his post, his golden eyes sweeping over the land and the herd; the family, he cannot help but be plagued with thoughts among the silence. It is not often that anything breaks the deadening sound aside from the whistle of wind among the pines and crags, or the random clatter of rock as it loosens from the wear of time. So when the soft sound of footfall enters his ears, he is well aware of his visitors before they even call out to him.


Head turning, he watches as mother and daughter make the climb to stand with him. His wolfish gaze lingering longest on the filly before resting on the Skjaldmaer. He does not pull away as she reaches out to him, feeling the warmth of her touch trail his muzzle ever so gently. It is in the quiet that follows that tells Bacardi it must be important. Though he cannot begin to fathom what it might be.


“What brings you both to visit me today?” he asks. The sound of his voice so much different than the boyish tones he had carried when Bacardi had first met Valka. Now, as well as his appearance, he had become a stallion. The insecurities and unsteady decisions gone for a steadfast, thoughtful Hersir that waited with curious ears and eyes for what Valka might say.

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

"...speech"