During the early morning hours, Bacardi often stood alone, just as he did this day. His golden lupine eyes watched as the sun rose from the east. Casting it’s beautiful pastel colors across the indigo sky, chasing away the darkness that tried to cling to the earth. Soon, the warmth of the sun would chase away the chill of the night just the same as the sky. Glancing over his shoulder, he looked to where his family was sleeping peacefully. The few that remained at his side caused a smile to curve his lips, though it slowly faded as memory always played a part in dampening his mood. With a small shake of his head that tossed his long mane about his neck, the stallion moved away, starting his morning patrol.


Bacardi had managed to go far enough that the herd was no longer visible when a call range across the unforgiving land of Tinuvel. It wasn’t a sound he heard often, but it was familiar nonetheless. It was only strange, given that it was supposed to be on the Crossing and not here. With ebony rimmed ears pushing forward among the locks of dark mane and forelock, Bacardi let out a returning call. His deeper baritones bouncing off the rock and trees that surrounded them in the Bay.


Picking up a trot, the stallion picked his way along a worn trail that led him towards the beach. When his gaze finally landed upon the mare he had met, and somehow had relations with, Bacardi was surprised to see the long-legged foal with her. It was like a mirror reflection of the mare, making the stallion wonder if it was his child or not? The painted stallion had been the father of many who were not of his blood, and even now, he felt a twist of unease as he approached the two. “Nesrine.” he greeted the mare, though stopped short a few strides away. Not sure how she would take him around the foal. “It’s good to see you again. Who might this be with you?”

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

"...speech"