Burn does not dare linger a moment longer just in case the sound of mother's shrill voice might cause father to change his mind. He was not about to pass up an opportunity, however small it was, to leave the Forest. Even if he was supposed to be apologizing or something along those lines.


Dark ears swivel forwards as his legs quicken their pace, quickening his walk into something more akin to a lope down the winding paths cut through the trees. Dark eyes shine brightly, his charcoal nostrils flaring with impending excitement. He has been waiting for this moment far longer than he cared to admit.

His quick pace soon enough brings him to the edge of the forest territory. Sunlight dapples through the thinning veil of leaves above as (as gracefully as a young stallion can muster) Burn gathers the muscles in his haunches to leap over the narrow river that bordered their lands from the prairie territory. Of course, his leap would never be as clean as he expected it to be. While his front hooves did indeed find purchase on the dry edge of the far-side bank, his hind hooves touched down onto the slippery mud and since he had adjusted his weight into his rear end, thus he found himself sliding backward into the water. On his rump no less.

Grumbling to himself, the young stallion picks himself up and gives his mud-covered hip a good shake. However, even one roll would not remove all the gooey mud, at least not until it had a chance to dry more. 'So much for looking the part' he thinks to himself as slower this time, he climbs up the embankment and onto dry ground. Raven-tipped ears twist forward and backward as cautiously he takes a few careful steps beyond the border and away from the protective reach of the tree's sheltering branches. The sun is warm on his back and the thick grasses reach up high, causing him to stifle a boyish giggle as they tickle the underside of his belly. Gentle zephyrs blow across the open landscape, causing the tops of the yellowing strands to sway like ocean waves. It begged for him to come along and race with them through the open grasslands. A taunt he might have well taken on in his excitement were it not for the growing scent of father, a reminder of his task at hand.

With a wistful blink of his eyes, the stallion collected himself, squaring his red and white shoulders and dropping his head into something more submissive. Waiting for the stallion and his father to appear.