Grazing along the thick autumn grasses, Zevulun was finding he rather enjoyed the life of a homebody. Just five years prior the idea of staying in one territory day after day and never traveling from it would have been absolutely unappealing. But since he was taken away from this place, he had come to appreciate exactly all it stood for enough to find he just… didn’t want to leave it. There were times he had to, of course, like his visit to Mariael at the tail-end of summer, or his walks to one of the other Luthien territories, but he was home more often than not, and he loved it.

Despite all the sorrows that had transgressed, love and warmth still remained. The laughter of his children filled the air, as did the sounds of the herd breaking away grass and swishing their tails as they grazed. It was a good life. Good enough to act as a balm any time negativity crept into his mind, anyways.

The autumn breeze stirred the grass beside him and, with it, brought a stallion’s scent. Zevulun’s neck pulled quickly up and back into his shoulders, head raised and body tense. His pink nostrils flared outright as he drank in the next breeze to pass, and the tightness of his muscles released their tension. Quick to follow the scent was the Forest and then Bacardi, which meant it wasn’t an intruder coming to stir up trouble. A call reached shortly after, just as Zevulun had turned around and started striding in the direction they seemed to be. The call was not as deep as he’d expected Bacardi’s to be, but there was no mistaking that it was beckoning him.

Zevulun called back with a hearty whinny, dropping his head as he picked up his pace to trot and then lope the distance between them. As he took note of their figures - Bacardi and an unknown, younger appearing stallion - he slowed his pace to come near them at a more sensible walk. He nodded toward Bacardi, always humbly respectful to the painted Forest lead, then glanced toward the younger stallion who’d called him. Curiosity was bright in his eyes.

“Hello, welcome to the Prairie,” he started, glancing briefly back toward Bacardi, “It’s good to see you again, neighbor.” He looked between them both, a kind smile across his lips. “What’s the occasion?”