Shaking his head with a deep sigh, a greying appaloosa looking stallion moved. His long legs pushed against the grasses, making their stalks swish and crack under his weight. His green eyes were tired and held something close to homesickness. He wanted to go back, to be a part of the stallions that had helped shape him into what he was. He could taste the bog in his dreams, scent the decay. He could feel the cooling earth and the slime from some of the more murky areas of his past home. It was as if the lagoon still clung to him, wishing to drag him back to its depths. He so wanted to, but Rutger knew with his blatant assistance to his sire, that he could no longer return to where he once lived and he dared not go in search of his niece or half brother.
Moving around a bend of trees and closer to the falls, the draft built stallion paid no mind to the other horse here. His sights were on the cooling liquid, his scarred up body proving he wasn't the nicest creature around. His tangled mane no longer hung in ropes, but was starting to clear of the fairy knots and scalp achingly tight twists. His time so far away from the lagoon, be is short, was clearing him of the wild ways of his home. He was starting to clean up, to look more like a horse instead of a monster. His green eyes were dull of course, but now his coat shined with fresh baths in the falls clean pool and he smelt more like wild flowers as he spent more time hidden in a meadow full of them in this section of the crossing than anywhere else waiting for his sire.
Quenching his thirst and lifting his head, Rutger finally gave the stallion his attention. His red roan frame was the opposite side of the spectrum from this blue roan, but he was not bothered. Tilting his head to the side, the greying stallion huffed out a breath. “A bit early in the morn’ to be roaming aye?” Letting his words slip, Rutger waited a baited breath before he turned away, moving off to the softer grasses that grew by the pool even with the summer having come in already. Nibbling a few strands and looking back over to the stallion again, Rutger raised a brow. “What has you in no mans land?”
Rutger
stallion | 17.1hhs | gray blanket (red roan) | Lost Son
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