Bacardi had intended on leaving her alone; for her to be at peace as she was before he had callously approached her. He was surprised when she began to talk, to carry on a conversation as if they were safely at the Falls instead of here in the Forest. Hadn’t the Prairie stallion warned away his herd from approaching the Forest, of approaching him? Even though the last time he had spoken to Zevulun, he had been the lead over the Thicket, his scent would have surely changed to make the statement of where he called home now.


The painted stallion swallowed back a huffed sigh. His thoughts had gotten away from him. This mare was being polite, friendly, but not flirty and silly as most might be that would cause trouble. It was nice, if he was being honest, to just meet someone with no ulterior motive aside from just to enjoy his home and his company. At least, that’s what it seemed to him. Bacardi had been wrong before, though.


“I appreciate the compliment, Sidra. My name is Bacardi” he replied, always glad when someone thought his home was as beautiful as he did. It wasn’t the same sort of beautiful as Tinuvel gave; with its sharp, awe inspiring peaks and snow-white scenery. The Forest was home, and it gave him a sense of safety no where else had. Bacardi felt bad that she had lingered at the border for so long, unable to come and see it for herself. “Would you like to see more of it?” he asked.


They had already started down this rabbit hole, might as well enjoy the rest of the adventure before they had to face reality.

mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the forest.

"...speech"