When the young mare agreed to his proposal, Bacardi cast a quick glance off in the direction of the Prairie. He was sure that it looked suspicious, despite him having no ill will of Sidra. It was only to make sure the pale stallion wasn’t barreling down on them before they could even get started on their exploration. “No need for thanks…” he said, his wolfish gaze returning to her. “I’d like for it to always be this way.” Though he meant as a place for peace and safety to all, Bacardi does not elaborate on his words. Instead, the dark brown and white stallion turns, and begins to lead the pale mare deeper into the Forest.


As he picks a trail that will keep them away from his small herd (poor girl, he doubted she was up for meeting Twinge being so shy), Bacardi’s mind wanders to the different places in the territory she might like. The first place they manage to come to, is a small stream that cut it’s way between the trees. The trickle of water only a foot or so wide, but it always seemed to flow strongly, no matter the season. “The water is always fresh here.” he said just before stepping over it, pausing then to see if she wanted to get a drink. “Someday, I plan to follow it upstream to see where it comes from.”


After waiting for her to finish or drink, or not to have one at all, Bacardi continues down the path among the trees. His ears and eyes alert to their surroundings; as if he were a young colt again, sneaking passed Havelle’s father to have a fun day with her. It had been a long time since he had thought of the Tinuvel girl of his youth, and was pleased that the sting wasn’t so sharp this time. Perhaps time did heal most things.


Climbing up an embankment, Bacardi paused as they reached the top. Stretched out before them was a pond so still, it looked like a mirror. “Have you ever seen your reflection before?” he asked, glancing over to Sidra once more with the starting of a smile on his dark lips.

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

"...speech"