When Bacardi heard the call, he had almost thought himself to be imagining it. The howl of the wind, and the creaking of the Forest around him, made it hard to discern reality from imagination. Deciding it would be best if he investigated rather than leaving it to chance, the stallion carefully picked his way through the swaying trees, leaving his family under the protective watch of the lead mare.


As the painted stallion reached the tree line, stepping out into the open on the shore, the wind (tinged with salt) buffeted his face even harder. The trees had given a strong wind break, and now he was getting the full force of it. Lupine eyes narrowing, he was surprised to find a stranger with a foal, and Voyager looking rather upset, but not nearing. Did he know these two? Nostrils flaring, Bacardi drew in the scent of the stranger, and was nearly overloaded with the smells being carried in from the sea. Still, even with the salt clinging to them, he could smell the Crossing on both stallion and foal. But even stronger was the reek of the Lagoon.


“Why are you here?” Bacardi demanded. His voice carrying a deeper, resounding authority he had not used when greeting his dark colored sub-lead for the first time. Although Bacardi did not rush the Lagoon stallion with pinned ears and snapping teeth, the gruff greeting was the best he was going to get. Especially in such a strange scenario as the one Bacardi had walked up on.

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

"...speech"