On this night, Bacardi stood near Sidra. His dark muzzle close enough that it could almost lightly brush the pale skin of her shoulder while he dozed. His golden eyes closed, though his ears alert to any danger that might try to creep up on them in the dark. It had been a long day of patrolling and he was tired, but that didn’t stop him from hearing something coming from a long ways off. Growing more alert to it as it neared, Bacardi raised his head and opened his eyes. Moving closer towards what was clear now to be pounding hooves. Body tense, he placed himself in front of the herd, ready to defend them of whoever this was that had come in the dark.


Although the wait seemed to take a lifetime, it was only a few more seconds before a familiar face appeared. Blue eyes looking over the herd (he assumed for Toland who was not here) they finally settled on him before crying out his name. Or at least the name he carried happily. Bacardi felt his body relaxing from its stiff stance as she quickly made her way over, and then dropped down onto her knees. Confusion instantly struck Bacardi. Why would she ever bow to him? He had never demanded that or taught that to anyone.


“There is no need for that, Amarinora.” he quickly said, not wanting her to stay like that. Ears flicking back in discomfort before pushing forward again, the stallion reached out his nose to the filly. Or rather, young mare. “It’s late, why have you come? And with such actions…” Bacardi could make assumptions, but he wanted to know for sure that he was right. That Amarinora had come home.

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

"...speech"