Lately the speckled draft has not been in the highest of spirits – his forest had to go. He has to move now to a new place, a different place. He'll have to escort his women [unless of course they wanted no escort] to the east to nestle just below the Tundra. He's done a little recon and former home of Lupei, among the smoldering ash and crystalline waters, is actually abundantly fertile. It's coastal grasses delightfully salty, the swamps teeming with life, water everywhere – even a few patches of hot-springs to soak sore muscles or clean the soot from your coat. It's forest is not like this one. It's ancient but there are only four or five behemoth sequoia instead of a whole stand of them. His new forest will be ash, oak, elm, maple and all of the like.
His contemplation of his new home ceases for a moment when his ears alert to something stirring in the distance. He can hear Sabé's soft voice cooing. Her huge belly had produced a living child, he had no doubts. His first born.
“Little Ruri.” His granite voice rumbles from behind the dun's ears, his teal eyes peering from behind his hair to look down at the bay foal. His lips find the ridge of her neck and play thoughtfully with a few black strands of her mane while he watches them together. “When she's up on her feet, we should get going out of here. We're moving, lass.” He watches her expression as the words fall onto the damp spring air. “We'll align with the Chamber, for strength. But we must move to the Volcanoes.” He then looks idly down to his child again and extends a rough black nose to sniff her gently.
chemdog
astra inclinant, sed non obligant.
@[Sabé]
