When Syrah was the one to appear, Bacardi was a little surprised. Aside from seeing her drifting through the trees, he had not spoken to her in a while. Only watched as she remained a husk of her former self, empty of her memories, and apparently the will to thrive. The Forest was laden with an abundance of food. There should be no reason she looked as frail as she is now.


With another low rumbling sound, Bacardi walked through the snow towards the mare. Removing what little distance remained between them. It hurt to see her this way. The loneliness she presented upon her face and in the way she held her ears. A gentle sigh escaped the painted stallion; his warm breath fogging on this crisp air. "It’s good to see you, Syrah.” Bacardi greeted, breaking the silence as he extended his muzzle towards the slender mare to exchange breaths.


As he pulled back, his ebony rimmed ears pitched forward, and his lupine eyes were thoughtful. Perhaps the Forest was not meant for Syrah anymore? Instead of trying to figure out her old memories, locked away in this sadness she displayed, she should be trying to create something new for herself? A place that would be just as new to her, as she was to it, without the daily reminder as he presented.


"Do you… wish to leave?” Bacardi finally found the courage to ask. Although he wouldn’t blame her if she did, and would even help find her a fitting home, the painted stallion couldn’t lie in saying he would be disappointed. "Clearly you’re not happy here.” Guilt was heavy in Bacardi stomach, feeling as if he carried a heavy stone. If only he had done more for her, maybe it wouldn’t be this way.

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

"...speech"