Meadow

Hooves pounded a mesmerizing rhythm across the solid earth of the meadow. His sides heaved and his heart pounded in his chest. A sheen of sweat glistened across his dark coat, lathering his sides with white foam. His muscles flexed as he drove across the grassy lands as though he were a madman who’d lost his mind. His head was outstretched, parallel to the outstretched strides of his lengthy limbs. No one chanced him. Nothing stalked him. Today he was chasing the wind. Tonight he would chase the stars. The freedom he felt in these new lands was unlike anything he’d ever known before. There was so much to see and so many marvels to acquaint himself with. He ran with the careless abandon of a child. Amber eyes were glued to the path ahead, constantly scanning for anything that might cut his stride.

As he neared the edge of the clearing, he drew himself upward and launched his heavy frame over the bushes that were scattered along the outskirts. He cleared the foliage and pulled himself to a halt. He drew in a deep breath of the cool summer breeze that washed over him and filled his lungs. His sides continued heaving as he drew in ragged breath after ragged breath. Running had always been invigorating for him. It not only served to help keep him fit and in shape, but also gave him the calming sense of fairly flying over the land as though he were a bird. He drank in the breeze, trailing his dark gaze over the bushes as he spied out some form of shade.

Trees were scarce here, which did not surprise him. Only a few jutted up over the tall grass of the meadow and most were not prominent enough to give off much, if any shade at all. He did see one that stood tall and hung its branches out to cast a shadow over at least a small portion of the meadow. That seemed as good a place as any to cool off and catch his breath. Perhaps he would even have time for a nap, if he could find it in himself to doze on such a humid day.

He made his way to the tree and allowed his thoughts to wander, and there were so many places for them to wander to. He would need to secure a land or find a home soon enough and then there was the need to fill that land with like-minded equines. He desired something similar to his fathers herd, which was prosperous and very low on drama or political strife. While he knew there was no way to control what happened outside of his lands, he could certainly do his best to build a herd that operated both as a family unit, but also as a barrier for the troubles of other herds that liked to wander from time to time. That would not be easy, nor would it be an immediately achievable goal. But if Xanthus was anything, he was patient and reserved. He considered things calmly and with calculation. There had never been much room for rash decisions or a quick temper in Xanthus’ personal armory. He settled beneath the branches of the tree, still standing tall as he peered out over the field and wondered just how possible any of his aspirations were.