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The gelding hates winter. Not that he's the biggest fan of summer either, but as it's currently winter he finds that far more annoying. He shivers constantly, and is grateful for his considerable stores of fat that give him at least some insulation. At least the Throat is fairly warm all the time - every cloud. When he ventures outside the Throat, the sheer depth of this particular winter hits him. Hock-deep snow, freezing storms that chill him to the bone, having to dig for five minutes to uncover some grass...oh, for a warm stable and everything delivered to him on a plate! He comes to the cave for shelter, and it's here that he feels The Pull again. Yes, it gets capitals for emphasis, because it's not just a pull, it's a Pull. The same Pull he felt when the little white egg got given to that horned stallion, and he ended up fighting fake snakes alongside fake deer. Eagerness fills him, a hunger for the companionship he'd almost gained but hadn't been quite good enough for. Little does he know this Pull is not for the companionship he craves. So he scurries along as fast as his stumpy legs will carry him, his hooves thudding onto hard cave floor as he shuffles along. The path forks, and in front of him he sees two others go right and one go left. "Hmmm," ponders the gelding, his warm hazel gaze settling on the middle path. It seems as good a choice as any, so he steels himself and heads towards it. Ears back, fear evident in his eyes alongside a hint of hardness, the gelding moves along the middle path. ________ |
