In the silence of the night, Bacardi decides to take a quick patrol. There was no real reason other than he couldn’t sleep, and standing still had never quieted his mind. The trails throughout the Forest did well to put the stallion at ease, and he was debating getting a drink and then going back to his family for the rest of the night, when a new scent caught his attention.


Ears flicking back and then forwards again, Bacardi followed it towards the shore, though didn’t quite make it there. Laying amongst the trees an unfamiliar golden stallion rested. Toland had not come across him yet, nor had Voyager, which lead Bacardi to believe the stranger had not been there long. The painted stallion stopped, standing amongst the shadows as he just watched. Wary, but curious enough not to disturb the old stranger.


When the stallion jerked awake, Bacardi prowled forward, his golden wolfish glare glinting in the darkness. Black rimmed ears tilt back as he hears the stranger call him Felony; a name he had been called once before by another old stallion. But just like him, this stranger was clearly confused. Bacardi had been much younger the first time and it had pushed him into looking for his sire on the mainland. This time, the painted stallion would not make the same mistake.


“What are you doing here?” Bacardi demanded, his voice pitched lower so that he would not disturb others in the Forest. Not realizing that he had made himself sound nearly identical to his grandsire, as if being his mirror reflection was not enough.

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

"...speech"