Bacardi’s gaze watches as Toland trots off alone; his silver tail flagged, and his hooves bouncing higher than they should. The painted colt was certainly up to something, he just didn’t know what. For all the days Bacardi had stalked after Toland to see what his son got into, it was mostly racing through the Forest, or hanging out with Roamer. Now that Nahawi’s filly was gone, it seemed those two drew closer and closer as the days went by. So today, to save some of his energy, and to patrol the borders as was his actual duty, Bacardi didn’t follow Toland. Instead, the painted stallion followed a well worn path that took him along the shore border instead of one of the neighbors.


With the sea breeze buffeting softly across his two-toned skin, his lupine eyes looked out towards the other islands with mild interest. He had spent his years confined to Tinuvel as well as he had to the Forest. Only a few short ventures had been made to the Crossing, but that had been so many seasons ago, and the bustling life in the Forest was beginning to die down. Maybe it was time he sees the Crossing again? Bacardi frowned, before taking a single step towards the lapping water upon the shore bank. But what if someone else showed up while he was gone? A snort escaped him, knowing full well that they wouldn’t get very far without the lead mare or second finding them. So, with more confidence than before, Bacardi walks towards the sea with the intention of going to the Crossing.

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

"...speech"