Weeks turned to months, turned to years. Each day was different, but ultimately the same. He and Sway traversed the byways between the Salem territories, barely eeking out a survival on limited food and water. Sway, of course, fared better than his father. He was able to range further and wider, to take more risks owing to his ability to flee danger.

An ability that Raegar himself no longer possessed. The attack and then years of lingering infection had stolen away much of the strength in his hind end, and the isolation this had resulted in had nearly destroyed what was left of his mind. Raegar was not the sort of creature that was content to sit on the sidelines and wait, or to take a backseat when danger arrived. The overo no longer had that choice.

If there was danger now, it was Sway that had to face it, and if there was any kind of risk, it was Sway that needed to understand it, predict it, and work around it.

In truth, Raegar had been struggling to find a new purpose after being run off from his home by the chimera stallion. He knew that he could no longer be a herd leader, not on his own, but the drive to do just that bubbled in his very blood, as much a part of him as was the tangle of his thick black mane. Even the prospect of finding himself beneath Marceline - recently returned - or Mazikeen in the Desert made him uneasy.

He wasn't sure he could bend to the will of a mare.

Except for one, of course.

Which is why, when news reached them of Arsinoe's reclamation of their family home, Raegar and Sway began the arduous journey from where they'd been hiding in the crease between the Desert and the Hills toward the Badlands. It was a slow process, one made slower by the increasing spring temperatures and the pair were forced to stop early in the morning when the sun as a bullish, vicious gold in the sky. Their shadows were basically nonexistent as they lowered their muzzles to the larger pond at the border.

Sway remained on guard, positioning himself between his father and the rest of the territory. They had scented an unknown stallion on the borders and were justifiably wary, but the need for a drink was far more pressing. They still had another two days, maybe three, before their slow, shuffling pace would get them to their destination, and every single step of it was likely to be fraught with one kind of danger or another.

adult stallion - mutt - seal bay overo - 15.1h - rafe x velahrn