As they do, the seasons change, a never ending circle. Summer crisps into Fall, the treeline follows suit. Leaves burn in vivid reds and oranges, a contrast to the chill that skirts each draft of air. The once lush grasses and abundant wildflowers, are replaced by yellowing blades that require good chewing. As if his new home needs anymore stillness, the animals retreat, a long awaited hibernation beckons them.
As somber as it may appear, Weir's disposition does little to reflect it. He persisted to make the back and forth trip to the fields, conversing with prospective herd mates. Talking long on the qualities of the Dale, among other things. The roan had yet to bring any of them back, the gathering grounds were a free for all. An overwhelming number of equine offering their own homes to the bedraggled new comers.
Yet he could not complain. What conversation he could not find along the meadows and valleys of his home, he surely discovered in the Field. This afternoon he was 'taking it easy,' standing atop a rise overlooking the autumn colored trees. A thoughtful look stenciled on his face, quite neutral in appearance. He was stifling a yawn, eyes squinting shut in his attempts, when he caught a blurred peripheral.
He could have sworn a blink of an eye earlier, that he had seen only hooves, yet here his King was. He noted the lads changing pelt, his dark tone replaced by charcoal gray. The young King looked older and not just in his growth or his coloring. The burdens of ruling licking hard edges around his form,'kill the boy' the saying went.
"Ah, my young King. Good afternoon? Why yes, I suppose it is."he says warmly. "It is much to my liking,"he says gently, "I believe I could use more time in the day to enjoy it, and to visit the herdless lands. We'll find the right ones to fill our borders eventually." A good natured laugh falling from his maw."How does Kingship find you these days? You are growing."A keen amber eye finds him, almost inspecting the young man.
