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Breathing slowly helped ease the stallion's fear. Not the kind of fear you get when in battle; nor the kind when your beloved's in danger. No, it was the plain fear of not being accepted. A simple little thing, really. If he wasn't accepted, the stallion could go try his luck at the Foothills. But, in truth, the big male wanted to be part of the Dragon's Throat. That simple. He felt distinctly awkward and uncomfortable around equines, or unicorns. No, that did not mean Yol disliked them; he was a kind soul. But that didn't mean that he felt clumsy and overly large around any animal, for that matter.
Yol circled a little lower, the wind caressing his dark gray feathers. He was a big-boned stallion, with broad wings, and a heavy muscular build due to his Percheron (Percheron-pegasus?) blood, and feathers protruding from his lower legs. The feathers grew in size as they neared his solid black hooves. His gray pelt was stained with dirt, although the stallion generally tried to keep himself clean. Two small scars nicked his face. Blinking his big, stormy black eyes, Yol swooped down, coasting at about two hundred feet. Should I land?
The stallion sighed loudly through his dark gray muzzle, and flapped his massive wings once, soaring back upwards. He had always felt a little more comfortable in the air, relaxing on a warm thermal that could kiss his wings.
"If anybody's down there, or flying above me, they'll see me. I suppose I can land if I have to," Yol murmured outloud, stretching out his wings a touch more for the ultimate glide. Hopefully someone would come fetch him, and maybe he could talk about becoming a medic for the herd. He had never been a warrior, despite his bulk and muscle.
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