It turns out, when you're homeless, there really isn't all that much to do. The bird calls of dawn had roused him early, and had led him to a riveting morning of solo grazing. This, of course, had been followed by a stellar afternoon of morose lounging in the Meadow and was soon to be concluded by another lonesome night spent tucked away - safely beyond both Nyimara and the Lagoon's reach. Or it would have, were it not for the scent that set his heart to racing and his brow to furrowing.
She was gone. And had been since they had met ever so briefly so very long ago, taking with her the possibility of a child between them. The memory made his chest grow cold with malignant regret, threatening to poison his thoughts with the same self-loathing that had driven the past few years of his life. He had little to thank Nahawi for after ruining every scrap of good he had tried to accomplish, but he would remain grudgingly thankful for the dun's part in waking Rehoboam from his apathetic existence.
He followed the traces of her without thinking, though he was not certain he would want to see the comet-marked mare again, nor in truth, that she would want to see him. Rehoboam would not blame her for avoiding him again, given that they had met when he had tried to abduct her, believing such behaviors were necessary to garner him a solid spot in the Lagoon. When they met again, later, the anger that had flared had shifted into a moment of passion he could not easily forget. She had left marks on his skin that night that had never truly faded as stars left in her wake. And still they had parted, her with the potential of more responsibility, he with an inability to forget.
"Titania," he murmured into the dark as she named him and he paused, silhouetted by the weak flashes of lightning high in the clouds. For a long moment, he did not move. He suspected she might eat him alive if he stepped into her space again uninvited, but after a moment of consideration, he realized he did not care. Being eaten alive would be better than this aimless, nameless grief.
"You would think one would grow used to finding you in improbable places, and yet." He murmured, a touch of humor twisting into his words.
"I am surprised you care to remember me."