The long, summer grass parted around the stallion as his painted form strove further into the Commons. The stalks brushed his belly, dragging the tips against the grain of his fur in a ticklish manner. The dark length of the stallion's tail flicked outward as he huffed through his pale nose.
He wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for, especially in the dead of night. A restlessness ate at him in the quiet moments, and Tribulation had noticed by now that it was mostly happening at night. Perhaps it was the flies in the swamp, or the general unease surrounding the elections after the theft of Khyber.
The tovero mused upon these thoughts as he meandered through the silent grassland and into a spit of forest. A shape moved in the darkness beyond the few trees he could make out, drawing his gaze. A mere shift in the shadows, he had nearly missed it despite the nearness. Curiosity drew him toward the approaching shape.
He, too, froze at the sound of cracked kindling. Hesitation kept him only a moment. Then, Tribulation pushed forward from the cover of trees. She stood not twenty feet from where he'd emerged. Her scent nagged at the thread of a memory: the one that got away. A smirk lazily crawled across his painted lips. "My, my," the stallion drawled. "What have we here?"