Meadow

The warmth of autumn’s breeze was nowhere near as fulfilling as it had been days and weeks prior… Which signaled that autumn was coming to an end; something that unsettled the Dreadstag. For he knew winter was right around the corner. He’d spent so much time chasing around the mares of the Isles, that he’d nearly neglected his main motivation for coming to the Crossing to begin with.

There was no lazing about or grazing, as he normally may have. His hellraising had left him underweight and his negligence was beginning to show upon his body. But he forced himself to abandon all instincts of self-preservation and self-care to hunt for the feisty little mare that had lit the pyres of life within his heart.

His hoarse call would sound, filling the air. He doesn’t expect this to summon her -- but if she recognized his voice, perhaps in some twisted way, sticking close to a familiar face would seem more favorable to Grier, than chancing it with a beast she had no way of knowing. Dreadstag had been bad news -- she knew this about him from the moment they crossed paths in the Prairie. But he never pressed her or heckled her beyond his initial teasing and flirtation… He had proven to respect the firm boundaries she established.


He moved with purpose, a single eye wordlessly scouting right and then left. Occasionally, he’s forced to turn his head and look more directly, for he only has one working eye. He also relies on his ears, and on his nose as he seeks familiar signs... And for once in his life, he abandons all distractions.. For none of them would prove of worth or value to the golden stud.. At least, not until he knows that Grier is safe. If not under his protection, then, at the very least, knowing where he can find her should he seek her company.