toland

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stallion | mustang x | Ee aa nD nZ nSb | 15.1hhs

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Toland is not left waiting long. The painted mare arrives like an angry storm; her self-assurance and power like the winds that tried to batter at the Forest’s trees. But just like those trees, Toland does not give. Instead, as she pins her ears and glares at him, the painted stallion flicks his ears forward and offers her a smile. Clearly he is undaunted by the expression she wore. Just as self-assured in himself as she is.


“Hi.” he said in a friendly tone, though does not take a step towards her or offer his nose to exchange breaths. Toland guessed she was just as likely to bite the sensitive skin as she was to give a proper greeting. “My name is Toland, I’m from the Forest.” the young stallion introduces. “Who might I be able to talk to about possible alliances?” Her, perhaps? Though it isn’t her scent that was the strongest when he arrived. Still, her frame seemed well equipped for the job, if her apparent dominate personality wasn’t enough.


For a brief second, Toland wonders if he’s doing this right. Bacardi had never instructed him of how to go about getting alliances, or who might be friend or foe. Perhaps he didn’t want any previous ties or troubles to sway Toland’s decisions.