Meadow

It had been some time since Emhyr left the Bay. For the most part, the onyx stallion was content to remain within the borders of his home, tending to his family and ensuring the security of his land. Yet he could not help but feel a sense of unease as he let his gaze sweep over the milling bodies of his herd, a desire to do more blooming within his breast. He had often dreamed of tasting the same success his grandsire had once had, of cultivating the Bay into a thriving community where all were welcome. Yet those dreams had not yet come to fruition, and the young king was keenly aware that his own idleness had lent a large part to that.

It is with that in mind that he decides, one sunny autumn day, to finally step hoof from the Bay. With the Crossing in his sights, he made the frigid swim from Tinuvel to the main island, pulling himself from the sea at the shores of the Peak. With all the swiftness of a shadow he skirted along the Peak's shore, deftly avoiding the notorious vulcan mares - the last thing he wanted was to be caught intruding on their turf and labeled a threat to the (somewhat) peaceful life they had built for themselves there.

As he nears the border of the common areas, the thick forests that abut the coast give way to the vast expanse of the Meadow. The rhythmic murmur of the tide and the whisper of the dry grass swaying in the breeze eases the tension that had coiled in Emhyr's body during his short trek through the Peak. It felt odd to be so far away from the craggy shores and coniferous forests that filled his home, yet the change of scenery was refreshing. New. Nice. Perhaps, he thought, he would have to make a point to visit more often.

Movement on the beach ahead of him catches Emhyr's attention, his ambling pace slowing to a halt and his dark ears swiveling forward atop his crown. Umber eyes come to rest on the painted figure of a mare pulling herself from the sea, her ebony-and-ivory mane plastered in a spiderweb pattern across the curve of her neck. Emhyr observes with keen interest as she steps forward into the Meadow, cerulean eyes scanning her new surroundings. Was she lost? he wondered, or just new?

Eager to make her acquaintance, Emhyr sets off at a slow trot down the beach towards where the mystery mare stood. A warm nicker bubbles from his throat as he approaches, his pace slowing until he came to a halt several paces away, hesitant to encroach on her space so soon. "Hello," comes his amiable greeting, his dark eyes flicking briefly over her before settling on her face. "Name's Emhyr. You new here, or just stopping for a visit?" Forward it might be, but short and to the point had always been his preferred method of communication.