toland
stallion | mustang x | Ee aa nD nZ nSb | 15.1hhs
As Toland stood among the trees of the Forest, his nostrils flared, and he drug in the scents of its residence. The numbers had grown as of late; his trips to the Crossing having been successful. It made him feel proud, but it also made him feel greedy. He was more than content with the herd he had acquired. Each mare was nice, and they made for great friends. Toland could spend days on end with them, forgetting his responsibilities, and enjoy acting like a colt all over again. To romp and play. To race along memorized trails. It was not like any of the mares were much, if at all, older than him.
The part of Toland that could not resist adding more friends into his herd, was also the part that did not want to be like his father. Bacardi had been stagnant for as long as the young stallion could remember. He enjoyed the security of his sire’s rule, but he hated the loneliness of it. Toland was sure that he would never allow himself to be that way.
Tossing himself to the sea water one early morning, Toland made his way back to the Crossing. He wasn’t sure where he should go, perhaps the meadow, when he quickly got distracted with the potential of the Commons. Although he could not hope to meet one that claimed him quite like Morrigan had done, he did allow himself to be optimistic.
Shaking away the water once he’d made it on land, Toland quickly made his way inland. The young stallion was rewarded with the sight of a pretty painted mare breezing across the open expanse of the commons. He stopped to simply watch as she moved unlike any other he’d seen, when her direction changed and he thought she was coming over to say hi. A little too late, Toland saw that wasn’t the case at all, and that her long hair had covered her eyes. The stallion let out a snort and quickly sidestepped, trying to avoid a wreck, when her hair fell and she finally seen him.
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