It does not take long for the familiar scent of his father to thicken, marking the tri-colored stallion’s approach. Thickly muscled neck cranes back to watch as his father easily leaps clear of the small creek that had left him a mud-colored mess. Russet ears tilt backward as embarrassment colors his cheeks. It was hard to miss the twinkle of amusement in his sire’s golden eyes or the slight upward twitch of his lips where no doubt moments before, a smile had been. He watches expectantly as Bacardi steps alongside him. ’Go on. Call for him.’ The commanding voice washes away any muddled defense he can think of to cover up his clumsiness. It was time to get down to business.

Burn gives his broad head a small, subtle nod. He was determined to at least do this well. Do this one thing right.

Squaring his shoulders and inhaling a deep breath, the young stallion lifts his head to whinny his greeting. Try as he might, the voice was not nearly as deep as the resonating call of Bacardi that he desperately tried to mimic, but it was loud enough to gain attention. It was better than nothing and hey! At least it wasn’t as shrill as mother’s voice so that was at least saying something.

Impatiently his hooves shuffle beneath him as the bay and white stallion shifted the weight of his body. Ash colored lips press firmly together as he risks a glance over at his father, admiration hard to hide. ”Thanks dad.” he murmurs, his voice hushed. It was meant only for Bacardi’s ears after all. Whether he was thanking his dad for the potential freedom or simply running interference with mother is was not quite sure but either way, somehow gratitude felt necessary in this silent moment.