He returns to the sand he once dubbed his home for the simple reason of having nothing else more pressing. His mammoth form has grown slightly more sinewy do to lack of nourishment as he languished away in his own pool of despair before deciding that it was once again time to begin his climb toward glory. He may have lost his throne but he finds that he does not miss the turmoil that comes with being the sole leader of land that no one appears to covet. His time would be better spent continuing to antagonize his whore of a mother while creating a life for himself from the ashes of the one she burned to the ground. Before he had approached like through rose-tinted glasses that alluded to chivalry still being a required trait among men - but is it truly a requirement? The speckled behemoth has found himself pondering the fine line between being himself versus wading into waters attempting to drown him as he attempts to cater to other's whims. He no longer is certain that he needs the goodwill of others to find his fresh start in life. Every one he has approached - save Zevulun of the Prairie - has proven to be nothing more than someone consumed by their own selfish wants. He extended olive branches only to have them spat upon in disdain. There will be no more pandering. Today he will once again revamp his life. Today he returns to the Dunes that once gleamed with smothering sand and hints of a prospective future.

He moves with surprising ease through the yawning dunes as they shift beneath saucer-sized hooves. A smirk crosses his chapped pink lips as he remembers the never ceasing movement of this land. He ruled here in the midst of sweltering heat but the climate has shifted only slightly with the incoming tones of winter. The slight chill to the breeze is welcomed upon his coat moistened by a sheer sweat brought about by this most recent excursion. The overcast sky protects his delicate skin - though mottled through with scars at this point - from the normally overbearing sun. He pauses as his bright blue eyes shift above, taking in the canopy of slowly lumbering clouds, wondering where exactly such things believe they have to go. Perhaps if the clouds never left, neither would the people. A small thoughtful frown erases his earlier smirk as he propels himself forward once more to crest the last of the dunes before he arrives to the exact spot he had envisioned.

He descends upon the beach as the inhales the sting of the salty air through quivering nostrils. The undertones of life - of the herd within this place - do not escape his notice. The stallion simply chooses to deal with that complication as it arises. He is aware that someone will come and that they will likely have upon their brow the crown that he has lost. Oddly enough, he does not seek the power as hungrily as he had mere seasons ago. Instead he finds himself in a headspace that he is unsure of how to navigate. A soft snort of surprise escapes him as the chilly ocean waves lap against his ankles - When did I get this close to the water? Ever since his run in with what that strange medicine mare called a jellyfish, he did his best to avoid entering the ocean's depths without a thorough examination first. A quick glance around determines that his is currently alone. This shore brings back memories of when his brother arrived here in white-hot anger. The packed sands resist his hooves much like his mother resisted his many impositions into her life. All she had to do was say she was apologize for leaving me with her mess - but she will never utter such sentiment. He shakes his head in disgust, sending white-grey tendrils slapping against his muscular nape. He remains here, overthinking as he does, waiting for his replacement to find him.