Zion
Zion had stewed for the last few days, trying to decide what the first move he should make. Battles? Alliances? Members? All of the choices were important, and he knew he wasn’t alone in making those choices. But Drakon seemed more interested in his home, in securing the place they were supposed to feel safe. So, the dark brother sent the painted pale stallion to the neighbors. Hoping that Drakon would thrive in politics better than he ever could. Zion was too impatient and was sure that his skeptical expression wouldn’t do any good at making friends. At least all the neighbors were kin in some way; that should also give Drakon a bit of a boost in confidence.
The champagne stallion decided that perhaps he would try for members first. Besides, he needed a good look around the Crossing. To see how much it was populating there, verses the barren feel the Arch currently held. “I’ll change that.” He murmured, ambition glowing in his green gaze as he thrust out into the sea and made the cold swim to the Crossing Isle.
When he stepped up onto the bank, Zion shook himself off first, before he let his gaze sweep over the landscape. It was so different than the tall pines in contrast with the grey stone and white snow. Taking in a deep breath, the foliage almost smelled sweet here, and the stallion couldn’t decide whether he liked it or not.
Going further inland, Zion wandered for quite some time before he came to the Commons. Although he had never been there before, it had been described to him well enough for him to recognize it. Mother would be mad he thought, as he saw a lone grey and white mare. But the desire to herd her back into the salty water and to Tinuvel burned deep inside his chest. Compromise Zion mentally told himself, before walking over to the stranger rather than charging. His ears were forward, but his expression was cool (not quite cold) and his green eyes guarded. “Not for very long.” He stated. “Head for Tinuvel, we can talk along the way.”
He hadn’t bitten her or been rough in any way besides perhaps his direct tone. But it was so much better than the desire still coursing through his young blooded veins.
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