The wild child was a walking conundrum really. He had always been an independent child. He was oft times exploring the mysteries that the desert had to offer with an unconsciously bold and irrepressible spirit. On the other hand, he relied greatly upon one person. This person was a woman who he refused to relinquish from his hardened grip. Munroe’s spirit remained bolstered by his Ima, no matter what his supposed age dictated.

But his clinginess wasn’t something he would ever regard as strange. His childhood was anything but normal and his interactions with outsiders remained minimal at most. The young stallion had never had the proper socialization skills to help him expand his fierce, almost possessive, affections onto to other people. Ima was the sole set of shoulders who had to bare the weight of his sometimes heavy emotions.

Munroe knew he was not the only one whom Ima held close to her heart for she was a loving and giving soul. And so he was want to distance himself sometimes and watch her bestow her affection on others from afar. He found himself incapable of dealing with his sense of unsettledness and childish jealousy. The wild child never really knew how to express himself properly with others besides Ima.

This explained why when Ima and the winged girl went off from the rest of the kingdom, the wild child trailed curiously after them. He longed to also walk beside them, but he was at a loss as to where his place in this new dynamic would be. He has yet to see the serious boy and the girl who talked to the desert animals. And this winged girl remained completely unknown to him.

He could admit to himself that he disliked the fact that this girl shared a trait with Ima and it was one which he held dear - those wondrous billowy things which had once cradled and comforted him when he was but a ragged little boy. Munroe remembers their warmth from his recent homecoming and the peace he had found from their embrace. His mind and heart had been put at ease from his long and arduous journey. But it seems his was a troubled life for he never stayed untouched for long.

The wild child still only remembered flashes of his time during his abduction, but he remained somewhat relieved that perhaps he would not remember it in full. The few flashes he did remember, he did not want to dwell upon. His coat had finally grown out and the garish colors had been replaced by his natural sandy color. All that remained to mark him were curious azure blue swirls which trailed across his hindquarters and rump.

A couple of happy yips interrupt his current stalking of Ima and the winged girl and hazel eyes fall upon two little fennec foxes. He remembers them fondly; he often played and explored with the pair of mischievous foxes. He smiles freely and reaches down to nudge his foxy friends affectionately.