His dark form had haunted the shores and outer limits of the Ridge ever since a mare had come from the Peak bearing news of Clio. It took the bay stallion mere moments to react to her call. Almost immediately, Carthage turned from the roughage he'd been nosing about and darted through the verge toward the shoreline. Bits of low hanging leaves caught in the frazzled curl of his mane as the stallion charged recklessly forward. Within a few short minutes, the Friesian emerged from the tangle of the jungle.
The broad sides of tall, mossy boulders parted them, but Carthage could hear the stutter of her voice, nearly felt the percussive push of air from her lungs against his skin she was so close. "Clio." The pale mare's name thrummed warmly from deep within the cavity of his chest. He'd missed her than originally thought.. or planned, and the ache of it pressed its blade to his ribs as her pale form came into view.