Desert

A black mare with white splattered over her rump and down her back approached him. Psychedelic watched her plainly, never one to appreciate the feminine form the way other stallions might. Rather than consider whether or not she was attractive, the painted dun paid attention to her body language to see if she was as foul-behaved as the silver-haired mare that’d led in the Desert before her. While she didn’t lower her head and pin her ears to drive him off or engage him in any sort of fight, the tone that she spat past her lips at him told Psychedelic all he needed to know.

He only smiled.

“Well, I want to stay here until winter is through.” He said, plainly. “I hate the cold and the Lagoon is full of a bunch of cowards, I’d rather live in this wasteland than among those idiots.” His tone grew a little more annoyed as he talked of the current state of the Lagoon, rolling his eyes and fixing her with his stare.

“I’ll stay out of your hair, alright? Stay away from whoever you bring here. Whatever.” It was the best he could offer as any sort of truce. Psychedelic was opportunistic and would happily behave himself if it meant he could eat and drink and live snow-free through the winter as he figured out what to do.

Of course, he didn’t expect his request to be granted. This mare was newly leading here and would no doubt see him as a threat. How could she trust a stranger with only his words to go by? Especially one as gruff and unwelcoming as Psychedelic was?

I say we kick her ass and take this place for ourselves.

Psychedelic huffed a small, extra breath out of his nose and blinked across the gap at the dark mare. “You can trust I won’t take this place from you,” he clarified, “No offense, but I’d never willingly stay in Salem for more than a season.” A wry grin split his lips. “It’d drive me crazier than I already am.”