Despite keeping his herd close to the center of the Forest, Bacardi hadn’t tried to stop Sidra from going to her father when she heard of his whereabouts. It bothered him that he did not know the Savanna stallion, that he did not know if she would be safe or not and would have liked to have gone with her given the chance. But Sidra was a grown mare, not a filly, and he would give her the respect and chance to look after herself… for a little while. That time was limited though, and Bacardi found himself counting the seconds the was gone as his anxiety grew into a hard, heavy knot in his stomach.


Although he didn’t stand directly on the border to the Savanna, the painted stallion found himself staying closer to that side of the Forest. So, when the mare finally called out to him, he wasn’t far, and was able to hear her clearly. Picking up a long strided trot, Bacardi carved his way through the tall trees until he saw the pair waiting up ahead. Not wanting to go crashing into the small clearing breathless, he slowed just enough to be at a jog when he parted from the vegetation and stopped before the duo.


First, Bacardi’s gaze was upon Sidra, not sparing Zevulun his attention until he was sure that she was okay. Not seeing a single mark on her, he finally looked over to the stallion leaning carefully against a tree. The once Prairie King had certainly seen better days, and although it was concerning how he had acquired such wounds, it was hard to find he cared enough to ask. “I’m glad to see you back, safe and sound.” he said, his wolfish golden gaze quickly going back to Sidra. They instantly softened any time they looked to the pale mare, his worry not spoken but apparent by his tone. “What can I do for you, Zevulun?” Bacardi asked, the weight of the situation returning as he looked to the hurt stallion, wondering what it was that could bring him so far in such a condition.

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

"...speech"