Time: Dawn

Mood: Relieved

Condition: Healthy

Characters: Draeseong

Silence. A lone stinkbug sits in solitude upon a single slender leaf. There, she settles down to begin the painstaking process of laying her eggs. Several minutes pass and the first egg is gently deposited along a vein. She readies herself to lay the second, but a disturbance throws off her concentration. Her antennas flicker suspiciously. After a few moments of nothing, she resumes her task. She pushes her abdomen- and then a minuscule tremor sends an unnerving vibration up the stem of her chosen leaf. Followed by another, more powerful this time. And then another. And another. Each wave escalating in force until she's fed up with the annoyance and buzzes away, leaving behind her firstborn to be met with a terrible fate.

Large hooves of a once beautiful golden hue plow over the forest's greenery, shaking off grains of caked-on sand with each heavy step, fetlocks gracefully fluttering about. Rhythmic snorting could be heard as his thick neck rocked back and forth to the beat of his expansive stride. Strands from his mane and tail seems to dance with the dawn, the pink and blue tints of light reflecting off his flowing locks. His aura-filled eyes were swirling with the shape of a dragon, circling throughout the cloudy, aquamarine abyss. He glanced around the area, observing his surroundings as they forest grew thicker and thicker.

Feeling satisfied now that he had escaped to the safety of the canopying trees, his pace began to slow into an elegant canter, then an effortless trot. His breathing relaxed and he gave a wild toss of his long black mane, strands of silver shimmering in the patches of light that filtered between the towering branches. He reared back onto his powerful legs, chestnut dapples rippling with each muscular contraction, and let out a deafening neigh, letting any other horses in this area know he was of no harm and openly welcomed the company.

His most recent adventure was certainly one for the books, that was for sure. A wild herd of Gypsies unicorn mares had been tracking him through the neighboring desert for what felt like weeks. They were psychotic, as many females had proven themselves to be in his past dealings with mares. More than likely had desires of turning him into some bounded object for sexual pleasure. The drafty stallion nickered in amusement. He was forced to make the trek on foot, as the air was swirling with powerful sandstorms. His broad head dipped down to a small pool of fresh water, grateful to quench his eminent thirst at last. The reflection of himself caught his eye and his gaze wandered over his silky mane. He dismissed a momentary troubled expression with a soft shake of his head, the last specs of the wasteland's dust floating onto the ground below. He would rest here until suitable companions revealed themselves.