She questions whether her words make sense on how she feels over the Inlet, but to Bacardi, they make perfect sense. He knows without Valka there, that he would never return. The moment she had gone, it had been like the tether broke, and he had left without a fight against the black stallion that had claimed it in her stead. He had received the same welcome as Ironclad in Solomon’s home; an ally of circumstance that was more than happy to be rid of him once Bacardi had gotten his bearings to be able to leave.


They had more in common than either party probably wanted to admit.


“It is not the same sort of beauty that Tinuvel’s crisp, snow covered mountains offer. But I believe the Forest holds a strength and beauty all of its own.” Bacardi replied, mirroring her smile before he turned and lead the way from the Commons. Slipping off into the chilled salty water and leading her back to his home. Winter was nearly upon them, but not quite yet. The Fall leaves would be in full color in the Forest, and he hoped that she liked the seasonal display.


When Bacardi pulled himself up onto the shore, he paused there to shake the excess water from his coat before peering into the thick foliage of his home. The shadows inside the tree-line were dark; seemingly impenetrable in the dusk hours. But the dying sun cast a warm golden glow a top the multitude of colors on the trees, and Bacardi was proud to present his home to Lakota. His golden eyes warm as he looked over to his (hopefully) newest companion.


“So what do you think?” he asked. “Good enough to call home?” A small chuckle escaped his ebony lips. He knew from the outside looking in wouldn’t be enough to make that decision. So he stepped away, picking a break in the trees to lead her further inland.

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

"...speech"