And so, in his mental disarray, he was drawn to the Grove and its pond, as history is wont to repeat itself. His massive, heavy hooves were rooted to the icy edge of the pond. Frostfall was temperate; the water had only partially frozen over. Great skull was bowed, thick crest arched, as he stared at the spindly white veins that fractured the ice.
His mind, it worked, mulling and turning thoughts that all thrashed and screamed to be addressed first. In a way, it was welcome, for how could his demons rise in the face of such chaos? Even they were cowed by the pandemonium in the King’s skull. He sighed a vaporous breath that hung around his broad muzzle in the still, cold air.
Almost idly, as if to draw his attention away from his head, a thick leg stretched out, hoof hovering over the frozen water. And then slowly, deliberately, he pressed down, sending white spiderwebs exploding through the ice as a soft splintering slipped into the air. Easily, he broke through the thin layer, ivory weapon quickly hitting the frigid water and sinking to the shallow bottom. It wasn’t more than pastern-deep, but the sharp cold still pushed a snort from his nostrils.
His tail swayed once, clouded eyes staring at the broken ice.
@Orithia sorry it's kind of boring :|