Bacardi held in a sigh that wanted to escape at her admission. Although he was glad to hear she didn’t want to leave, he also knew the pain of not having the closeness of kin. It had led him off the islands once, wanting to find any traces of his father, while his mother had perished somewhere here among the trees of the Forest during the last war. Since returning from the mainland, he had found satisfaction in other things. Hopefully it wouldn’t take something so drastic for this mare.


“We’re all family here.” he replied. “I’m sure the mothers in the Forest would be grateful for a babysitter?” the painted stallion suggested, before he extended his dark nose out towards her again. “I know you desire a foal of your own.” he said softly. “Perhaps this coming Fall, your body will be in better shape to handle a foal.”


It was both a nudge towards trying to make her healthier, and an honest hope. Bacardi hated seeing Syrah in such a state, but the only one that could fix her at this point, was herself. Supporting a foal would drain any strength she had left in her frail body. “You don’t have to stay to yourself, either. Your company is always welcome.”

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

"...speech"