11-10-2019, 03:15 PM
He hadn't been sleeping well. Lilliana had invited him to bide in the Taiga while unclear danger lurked on the edges of their world. It was a kind thing for her to do, and he was grateful, make no mistake. But the new proximity to others gnawed on him, kept him awake when the sun's meager warmth would have otherwise lulled him into dreams.
That was his problem today. He had not explored thoroughly enough to travel freely yet, not without adding to the collection of scrapes and bruises the massive trees seemed all too willing to dole out. Really, if he knew, his fear might be somewhat eased. Who in their mind would approach such a rough liking stallion?
The pale lengths of his mane and tail were snarled with leaves, the broad white blaze on his face stained rusty brown from the blood that had seeped down it after one particular encounter with a low hanging branch. Even his coat hung rather drabbly from his bones. He'd had no time before the winter came to suss out the places where food still clung to life beneath the snow, and had instead resorted to stripping bark from the ever present trees. It was difficult eating, but it kept the hunger at bay.
Lips sticky with pitch, the midnight stallion lingered morose in the quiet bower a fallen tree and formed. It was shelter, at least. Exhaustion draped itself from his ever breath, willing sleep to come. The scents of others weren't all that close, surely he could convince his cowardly mind that this constant vigil was moot necessary.
That was his problem today. He had not explored thoroughly enough to travel freely yet, not without adding to the collection of scrapes and bruises the massive trees seemed all too willing to dole out. Really, if he knew, his fear might be somewhat eased. Who in their mind would approach such a rough liking stallion?
The pale lengths of his mane and tail were snarled with leaves, the broad white blaze on his face stained rusty brown from the blood that had seeped down it after one particular encounter with a low hanging branch. Even his coat hung rather drabbly from his bones. He'd had no time before the winter came to suss out the places where food still clung to life beneath the snow, and had instead resorted to stripping bark from the ever present trees. It was difficult eating, but it kept the hunger at bay.
Lips sticky with pitch, the midnight stallion lingered morose in the quiet bower a fallen tree and formed. It was shelter, at least. Exhaustion draped itself from his ever breath, willing sleep to come. The scents of others weren't all that close, surely he could convince his cowardly mind that this constant vigil was moot necessary.