There’s little he can’t be, and little he won’t try. The run-in with his overly scared niece hadn’t been too great however, so most days he sticks to a more or less natural shape. Blending in, as it were - if metallic golden fish, white squirrels, and snow owls with metallic golden belly spots were usually a thing.

Today he tries something else, however - himself, but in a different color. Instead of the usual golden spots on white, he sports a true-roan deep-golden palomino coat, and silvery-white mane and tail to go with. Nothing too fancy, but enough of a change that he needs to consciously keep it in check - that’s why he follows a stream, and checks his reflection passingly.

Thus, it takes the baroque stallion a moment before he notices the scent of someone else nearby - a mare if he’s not mistaken. Looking up, he scans the treeline, waiting to catch a glimpse of her.

from the ashes a fire shall be woken