The brief life that had come into the Forest was starting to taper off. Although it was nice, the ones that stayed. The scents that filled these woods, reminding Bacardi every day that he wasn’t alone. Still, he wished there were more. The painted stallion wondered if that made him greedy. Or if he could even handle the responsibility that would come with it? It would certainly paint a target on his home that he seemed to be avoiding for the time being. At least with the stallions that had moved in, and the capable mares that called this place home, he wouldn’t be alone in defending it either.


Lifting his head from the dead grass he had pawed the snow from in a small meadow near the Prairie, a few golden stems stuck out of his ebony lips as his lupine eyes surveyed his surroundings. Bacardi could see his warm breath on the chilly air, which made him grateful for the heavy coat his years spent on Tinuvel had given him. Even though the winters were still cold on Luthien, the heavy snow here did little to compare to the frigid island he had once called home.


Tired of spending his time contemplating his thoughts, Bacardi let out a nicker. His baritone voice drifting over the snow muffled land, wondering if someone would join him.

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

"...speech"