When the filly turned to headbutt him, a smile threatened to take over Bacardi’s lips. But it is his name spoken in a new way that brings his attention back to the warrior mare. His wolfish eyes return to her own, meeting them as steadily as they had before. Through the importance of what she said, a twisting feel threatened to claw its way into his gut. Valka asked a great deal from him, yet it was not the responsibility that made him feel his own doubt gnawing its way back to life, it was that he would fail her. That he would not be able to hold up the image that Valka saw of him.


“We are not bound to this world forever, Valka. I was barely older than Kesja when my mother was taken from me. It was hard, but the warrior women of the Peak did not leave me to suffer alone. I will not leave Kesja, nor the herd, should it ever reach that.” he promised. In some ways, Bacardi already looked at Kesja as his own. He had seen her grow and thrive, even when she had still been trapped within the womb. It was not a burden for him to accept what Valka tasked him with now.


“You have never asked of my past. Though I was young when I arrived here, it still felt as if I had already lived a lifetime. My understanding comes from experience. I learned long ago not even the strongest can deny their true nature forever.” Bacardi said before he reached out to the mare, brushing the heavy forelock away to better see both her eyes. “You have so much more you have to do, before anything is to ever claim you.” he murmured softly.

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

"...speech"