He himself felt the night's wanderings in his legs and feet, the fresh scrape on his cheek from a badly timed step that had run him into a coarse tree trunk. Antares had bid him good day moments ago, so he knew it was about time he found a safe place to bed down. They had gone a ways this last night, following the sound of the river to where the trees came more frequently.
That factor of the terrain was a mixed blessing. More trees, they meant more shelter in most cases. But they also tended to make the going a bit more complicated when one couldn't see them coming. With his friend gone, he went far more slowly, moving with exaggerated high steps in an attempt to avoid the roots jutting upward here and there.
His face, knees and forelegs had years of scarring crisscrossing them from such experiences. To look at the nocturnal stallion, it would be easy to mistake him for a battle hardened creature, a warrior from birth. It was perhaps a useful coincidence, if it kept away those who might decide the shy, sightless horse could be an easy target. He hoped that was the case, anyway.
The air was growing thick with the scents of others. Had here unwittingly stumbled into a territory? It had happened before, though he tried to stick to the common lands when possible. Not everyone appreciated the occasional stray wandering into their home, and he couldn't blame them. Still, he was tired. Could it hurt, to find some private corner and rest a while, before moving on?