Thoughts plagued Bacardi in the quiet days; most of the time they take him to distant memories. The pain that follows is always punishment for letting his mind stray. But today was different. Today did not bring pain, but curiosity instead. What started out as those distant memories, made him wonder to a warning his mother had taught him since the moment he was born. Fear the Lagoon she would always say. Everyone knew it as true; to stay away from the shadows that the bachelors resided in. They were nothing but trouble, and the reason Valka had come back to him in such devastating shape. But if he were being truthful; were they any worse than the powerful leaders of territories that fell victim to greed?


No matter how hard Bacardi tried, he could not shrug away the curiosity that plagued him. It was like a disease; distracting him for days until finally, he succumbed to its desire and plunged into the sea. Striking out for the Crossing, he was able to make it despite the cold that draped itself over both territories. The ice that already clung to the long strands of his mane, and the tips of his furry coat was paired with a shiver that ran down his spine. Perhaps foolish to swim this time of year, and could he even say it was worth it?


Shaking away the icy water from him coat to try and fluff it up and warm up, Bacardi set out for the one territory that he had never gone before. The Lagoon.


Several times along the way, Bacardi told himself that he was stupid. That he should heed his mother’s warning and never set foot in the bachelor lands. Clearly, he didn’t belong there; he was nothing like them. Even the stench that filled his nose was head turning, as he couldn’t help but curl his lip in disgust. But the further the painted stallion delved into the Lagoon, the less he noticed the burn in his nose. Or how the muck pulled at his legs. The shadows that prowled in every corner of his lupine eyes had him pausing to turn and look, but nothing was there. Only his imagination.


As the ground rose above the mud and water, Bacardi couldn’t help but perk his ears towards the massive willow tree. It was the first dry spot he had found since entering the Lagoon and the giant tree grew in the center of the little knoll. Stepping out of the mirk, Bacardi moved to stand next to the trunk. Now that he was closer, he could see the worn marks, like someone would standing leaning on the tree often. Yet there was no tracks, no scents that would suggest anyone had done so in quite some time. Strangely, a shudder still manage to crawl up his spine, as if here were being watched. Wolfish eyes turn, looking to the shadows around him, and he cannot help but glare out into them. A strange, predatory feeling creeping up through him that he had never felt before twisting his expression to something much darker; sinister. Little did Bacardi know, it was the call to his blood, as he stood in the spot his grandsire had spent most of his life.

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

"...speech"