The day was clear and the sun was shining, but Emhyr did not feel even an iota of its warmth within his body. There was a distinct chill in the air and wind howling down the mountain was bitter, biting at Emhyr as he trudged along the shore of the babbling stream that bisected the meadow he found himself in. His ears and his nose felt as if they had been gnawed raw by its relentless nipping and the air felt thin as he drew in a deep breath. Even after years of calling the Bay home, the cold still had a way of stealing any semblance of warmth from him.

Emhyr squinted against the gleam of the sun against the scintillating surface of the water, pausing to observe a small group of minnows where they darted to and fro, dancing between the rocks that lined the bottom of the stream. They darted out of sight, Emhyr's attention upon them waning as they melted back into the flowing water.

Despite the chill in the air, the day was beautiful. The towering oaks and aspens that dotted the mountainside had shed their summer colors and slipped into cloaks of reds and oranges and earthy browns. The azure sky had nary a cloud in sight, stretching in an endless blanket of blue from horizon to horizon. The earthy smell of moist leaves and moss filled his nose as he took another deep breath, his onyx lashes fluttering as his eyes fell closed.

Though there was peace around him, there was a tumult of thoughts spinning within Emhyr's head. With Khoshekh gone and Canis at his side now, the Bay King was keenly aware there would need to be a shift in ranks if he were to maintain the integrity of his herd. He had never entertained the idea of a queen before, but now the thought lingered at the forefront of his mind. A queen would certainly be beneficial, he thought, especially in matters of mediation within the herd itself. She would be a queen in name only, but nonetheless elevated among the other mares of the Bay herd.

There were only a couple candidates Emhyr considered worthy of such a responsibility. Vhagar, for one, seemed a good choice. She was hard-headed and temperamental, yet it was that fiery nature that Emhyr thought would prove useful when it came to protecting the others.

Eythora, too, seemed an ideal fit. Despite her battle-hardened exterior, she carried a heart of gold and could be incredibly tender at times. But never would her tenderness be mistaken for weakness.

Ultimately, Emhyr only ended up thinking in circles as he debated which of these two would best serve as the Bay's queen. Each had their merits and choosing between them was a struggle. His indecision only led to a strange sense of mental paralysis, one he found particularly discomfiting.

Huffing a breath, Emhyr peeled his eyes open and continued along his ambling path, the clack of his hooves against water-worn rock echoing through the meadow.