He is resting. A soft exhale allows his stomach to expand in a soothing rhythm. If someone were to put a fussing child aboard his rib cage, the consistent up and down motion would lull even the crankiest baby to rest. Emerald blades beginning to yellow and brown from the change of seasons tickle at the brim of his nostrils, irritating his whiskers and aggravating his upper lip. 

Because of his slacked position—his body fully expanded on his left side, legs sprawled and his head extended far beyond his body—his senses are magnified. He can feel the consistent movement of others around him, feel the ground slightly shiver with the stride of a nearby passer. His ears are like radar dishes swirling for an airplane, listening to the pretentious bird calls and obnoxious brute greetings from eager equines. Even the minuscule insects roaming beneath his weight tickle the small silver hairs on his coat.

It takes all afternoon and part of the evening before Opacity has the slightest intuition that his body is craving some hydration. The cool earth is a soothing relaxer, and it aggravates him that he has to consider relocating and adjusting his nap. The sky is beginning to darken with vibrant shades of red, yellow, and pink, but all he wants to do is shut his eyes and go back to the darkness he tries so hard to drown in.

He lifts his head slightly, eyes squinting as they adjust to the surrounding evening light, scoping his surroundings. The prey driven mentality will never be taken from his brain, it is forever hard wired into the back of his memory. Perhaps had he been taught by his parents that Beqanna isn’t necessarily a world to worry about predators (at least, not your typical ones), he wouldn’t feel the necessity to resort to historic equine mannerisms. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the privilege to learn the modern habits of horses here and was left to learn for his own.

Tucking his left leg underneath himself, the black male rises from the moss floor and lets out a violent shake sending loose blades on a flight. Around him are tall oak trees with falling leaves and chipped ebony bark. Less than amused, he flings his neck to his left shoulder and irritably nips at his shoulder to relieve an itch. Left behind as his mouth withdraws is a small spot of foamed saliva.

Exiting the forest is quite the task, but Opacity has spent years analyzing every game trail and critter-made path. Perhaps to the random wanderer or newcomer, the forest can be a nauseating task, but to the homeless introvert it is no different than exploring a large mall and learning where every store is located. Repetition.

Eight hundred and thirty steps later, the black roan found himself wading chest deep in the small lake of the meadow only south of the tree line. He rests his head slightly above the water level, his upper lip mildly toying with the surface and creating ripples. Once covered in dirt, the water begins to relieve the stallion of his tarnished coat, showing the silver accents laced across his skin to form a silver black tone.

Handsome devil, he is.

The sun is slowly setting, slower than he prefers and it gives him an uneasy sense of impatience. He longs to indulge himself once more in the comfort of his shaded oaks, but his dry throat begs to differ. If he were to wonder back now, it would only take a few hours before he would find himself in a similar situation. His best option is to completely rejuvenate before meandering back to his sacred home, and opt out of cutting corners.

To any other horse, the slight sound of an intruder would make them slightly excited—who isn’t a fan of company?
Though the sound of water parting from the weight of a newcomer causes the hair on Opacity’s skin to stand on edge, his jaw clenching and his muscles tensing. He turns his head, unsure of whether to expect a horse or squirrel or even maybe the prank of a fish. Heavy hazel green eyes set on the disturber before him.