Although Bacardi had been lead over the Savanna, Thicket and now the Forest; he had never set hoof inside the Prairie. He didn’t doubt that there was ponds and water there for Sidra to maybe have seen some of her reflection. And maybe he was stupid for asking her if she had. But the painted stallion thought with the openness of the territory, that perhaps the wind had not allowed for a clear picture of herself. Thankfully Sidra chases away any embarrassment that might start to creep in by confirming he was right, and even making him a bit prouder by her continued fascination with his home.


At first, as Sidra moved closer to the water, Bacardi remained standing back. Letting her soak it all in without him imposing on her. But, slowly, he couldn’t help his curiosity. When was the last time he had looked at himself in the water? So, as the stallion now stood beside her, he looked down at his reflection as well. The stallion looking back wasn’t what he had expected.


The dark brown face was not creased with lines of an older horse, nor did his brows furrow with worry or anxiety as they once did. The concern that used to be permanently stamped on his face seemed nonexistent, as if it had never been there to begin with. The stallion Bacardi had saw last time should have been covered in grey hairs and on the last leg of his life. But this one…. This one seemed filled with life, and even considered happy. In regards to his actual age, Bacardi wasn’t old to begin with. It had only been the weight of his burdens that made him seem like it.


Then his gaze shifted to the young mare beside him, realizing that she was looking at his reflection as well. “Enough to come back for?” he couldn’t help but ask.

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

"...speech"