The summer heat had begun to cool even in the tropical territory of Paradise. It allowed for the evenings to be balmy and pleasant rather than hot and humid as it had been often over the season. It had been one of those pleasant nights when the dark stallion left the confines of the jungle and dove into the surf. The sky glimmered overhead, alive with stars and the brightness of a full moon as his legs propelled him forward toward the coast of the larger island. It certainly wasn't a smart idea to dive into the teeming waters so late, if he wanted to avoid sharks. Carthage didn't know what those were anyway and held no fear. Perhaps that boldness -- and no small stroke of luck -- was what allowed him to reach the sands he sought.
Carthage stopped to rest for the last few hours of the night in the upper wetlands just north of the Lagoon. A dark ear cocked cocked at the strange, far-off sounds of whooping cranes and ominous low hissing. He had heard the night sounds of the Lagoon on his last visit. Caution influenced him to move further away from the dregs of the swamp and into the solid ground of the Meadow. Beneath a large oak, the dark bay roused when dawn broke over the horizon in the east and made his way onward. He moved quickly over the ground like a trailing shadow in the early dawn. The stallion wandered for some time in the Commons, hours passing like minutes of his hooves found their way over the more trafficked paths.
He had been restless of late. Carthage had largely kept himself cooped up in Paradise. Foxglow had not joined him there full-heartedly last fall, and still she insisted on returning to the north. Ears flattened against his neck at the thought, and an acrid taste filled his mouth. in his mind, there was no need to release Foxglow yet. Not until Praetorian was weaned. After learning of the death of his child with Rosaliana, the stallion was taking zero chances with the health of his remaining child. She could wait. She would wait. However long that meant. Still in his thoughts, Carthage turned his crimson gaze toward a wayward sound. Amusement would wrinkle the dark satin of his maw. "Who might you be?"