Bacardi stood upon the ledge the mountains had to offer like a sentry. His golden eyes constantly sweeping for any danger. So when the dark churning waters along the shoreline off to his left offered a speck of color, it instantly had his attention. Ears cup forward as he studied the creature that steps up onto the rocky shore, their dance of power quickly to ensue. To many, and even Bacardi, the display would make them think of a challenging stallion. But somehow, the pattern upon their flesh was familiar, keeping in check the flush of fury he might have felt otherwise.


Raising his nose towards the sky, Bacardi drank in the wind. Upon the crisp Tinuvel breeze, it was the perfume of the stranger that made him realize it wasn’t a stranger after all. Twinge. He remembered the young mare from the commons the instant he had caught her scent. Leaving his perch, Bacardi quickly descended down the rocky trail to the lands below. He held no reservations in leaving behind the herd, the family, when Valka was surely to be nearby.


Twinge’s echoing call had just begun to quiet when Bacardi emerged from the tree line. He did not approach the painted mare as he would any other. Rather, his proud neck was arched and he carried himself in a powerful, lofty trot. His long tail was held up like a flag behind him and his thick mane tumbled on both sides, floating with each step. But his display was not to dominate her, only to reflect the dance that Twinge had made upon her arrival.


Bacardi made one circle around the mare, his ears remaining erect and alert while his golden eyes gleamed with his excitement for her arrival. As he stopped to stand in front of her now, the Hersir extended his nose for a proper greeting.

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

"...speech"