Meadow

Tattered and cracked hooves of the Dreadstag would beat upon the earth’s soil like the beating of ancient war drums. Under the rays of morning’s first glower, his golden coat would glisten. There was no mistaking his presence on the horizon; a glittering spot of gold and white, that drew closer and closer still.

He moved with purpose, for it was the breeding season, and that meant only one thing to him: A chance to produce more children, to make his mark upon the isles, as his sire had. He had heard whispers about the stallion of the Prairie; how he had disappeared and faded into obscurity. A few of his mares he’d personally spotted on the common island, but none of them had been the spitfire mare he was looking for. Grier had merely started as a plaything; not someone he sought to covet. She had been so feisty, and fearless. She didn’t tolerate his nonsense, not even for a second. And it was through the firm boundaries and her less-than-ladylike disposition that charmed him. Being in her presence had taken him back to a time when he was young, thick with muscle, and… when he was not referred to as the Dreadstag, but rather, the doomsday wolf himself: Fenrir.

And so all it took was rumored words, spotting a mare or two that carried with them the scent of the Prairie in the claiming territory that he knew he had to find her, to make her his. She gave him a purpose beyond the constant chaos he left in his wake.

But the Dreadstag was an imperfect creature.

A scent filled his nares, and instinct took over. He followed until the bedazzled beauty came into view. She was luminous! He’d been hunting for Grier for a few days. Although thoughts of the roan beauty still pulled at his heartstrings quite strongly, he decided he wasn’t going to allow this opportunity to escape him.

So he would change gears, and not hesitate to trot right up to her. She doesn’t smell of the islands and their territories, and so he figures that she must be a voyager from a far-off land. Which was perfect in his eyes. She wouldn’t know anything about him. He didn’t need to rely on his brutality, at least, not outright. He did not hesitate to violate her sense of personal space by walking right up to her and pressing his nose into hers in curiosity. To breathe in her scent, and give her the chance to breathe in his own. “ Halló, pretty little one. “ he replied in greeting, his accent quite thick and harsh. It was clearly from a northern region of some sort. “ Und what is it you are doing without a protector, then? “