The summer heat had begun to cool even in the tropical territory of the Ridge. It allowed for the evenings to be balmy and pleasant rather than hot and humid as it had been often over the season. It had been one of those pleasant nights when the dark stallion left the confines of the jungle and dove into the surf. The sky glimmered overhead, alive with stars and the brightness of a full moon as his legs propelled him forward toward the coast of the larger island. It certainly wasn't a smart idea to dive into the teeming waters so late, if he wanted to avoid sharks. Carthage didn't know what those were anyway and held no fear. Perhaps that boldness -- and no small stroke of luck -- was what allowed him to reach the sands he sought.
Carthage stopped to rest for the last few hours of the night in the upper wetlands just north of the Lagoon. A dark ear cocked cocked at the strange, far-off sounds of whooping cranes and ominous low hissing. He had heard the night sounds of the Lagoon on his last sojourn to the Commons. Caution influenced him to move further away from the dregs of the swamp and into the solid ground of the Meadow. Beneath a large oak, the dark bay roused when dawn broke over the horizon in the east and made his way onward. He moved quickly over the ground like a trailing shadow in the early dawn. The stallion wandered for some time in the Commons, hours passing like minutes as his hooves found their way over the more trafficked paths.
He had been to become restless once more. Carthage had largely kept himself cooped up in the Ridge since having claimed it for his own. There had, of course, been a smattering of visits to the North. So far, the pale beauty he sought there had not yet decided to join him, but the dark bay wagered that his efforts would not be in vain. For now, his focus was back to growing the herd within the Ridge. What easier way to do that than visiting the Commons?
The scent of a lone mare a few moments later ensnared him, pulling the Friesian-shaped male toward her whether she liked it or not. The snap of a twig beneath his dark hooves warned of his presence, but by then it was too late. She was in his sights, and Carthage wasn't the sort to let her get away. A low chuckle escaped his thick throat as he materialized from the verge. "Not quite," Carthage answered, his deep voice resonating in the space betwixt them. The caramel tones that left his mouth held an amused caress beseeching her to stay. It would be too easy though to imagine that velvet voice murmuring a warning should she decide to run.
"I am called Carthage, and who might you be?"