08-31-2016, 03:59 AM
Manhattan does not believe in the strict society of herds. He was one who was born believed of kings, and one who, though having found his daughter and his mate, was definitely out for meeting more creatures like him. Vagabonds, travelers—nomads. He had only barely stayed in the fields long enough to cross into the meadow, but a time of boredom drew him back here, watching the unclaimed mares and randy stallions displaying their strength. Yellow-eared children he thought. And yet as he pulled into the field, rather than turning away, he wondered just how much difference there was between them, since he now found himself in the same place as he.
He had recently moved North, to where winter almost always abounded. Hidden between the stoney crags of the mountains, tundra and highland plain rested to create a well-protected kingdom that, for once in the entire history as he knew it, allowed both male and female to join in the ranks of the Tunda.
Tilting his head, he spotted a cremello mare who looked to be off by herself, almost timid—wary. Not timid… but she kept her strong side to the fore, a trait he noticed and could definitely respect.
Never let them see you cry…
Manhattan made no secret of approaching her, giving the unknown female plenty of chance to react to his oncoming presence. Keeping his head down and his spine soft, he looked at her with his amber-lit eyes, and spoke confidently but softly, both of which were uncharacteristic of him.
“Hello. I’m Manhattan.”
MANHATTAN
Baby, I'm from New York,
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of;
there's nothing you can't do.
Concrete jungle where dreams are made of;
there's nothing you can't do.