Silvery eyes watched the path with a stubborn, almost dangerous gaze. Trees surrounded the rabicano stallion, and everywhere he turned there were a thousand different ways to go, a hundred paths that could lead him to different sections in life. One decision, and his entire life could change. Snorting, the stallion threw his head up at such a philosophical thought, forelock brushing up against his horn. Tolio did not believe in such thoughts. For him, there was only now. He had no reason to dwell on the past, as it held only fond memories for him. Days ago he had parted from the bachelor herd he had been traveling with, and set out on his own, determined to start his own journey. He wasn't a particularly calm or wise male, rather an unbroken spirit. But, he mused, that made life colorful and different.

Back to the path. This path wasn't something tangible, per se. It was a pull in his heart, a scent brushing past his nose, something not quite there yet luring him on. An innate sense that drew him onward, a soft beckoning call that he was helpless but to follow. Many had gathered here, it seemed. The wind shifted, bringing stale scents of others, yet there were many. No matter where he went, always more trees! Tolio huffed impatiently and scarred the ground with one sharp hoof, venting his frustration into the simple action. He was not always this impatient, though he certainly was far from claiming that virtue. No; as he had the sweet calling that lured him forward, so he had another force to drive him from behind.

A memory. Two memories, to be precise. For months they had remained dormant, as many had from his past. But as all must choose, Tolio knew he had to mature, commit himself to something more than play and kinship. The visual of his father- proud and strong, swathed in bays and blacks- leading the other warriors into battle, eyes hard and ready. Willing to, in an instant, fight to his death for those following him so faithfully into a warzone. Next to this memory, this scene that had struck pride into the young colt, was of his mother. The elegant Arabian in her blood shaping her kindly face, and the fighting tainting this kindness into hardened determination as blood from multiple horses stained her pretty cherry coat. She was no killer, she was a healer, but the fierceness in her eyes was much like his father's. Willing to do anything to save those who suffered before her. Tolio had never wanted anything more than to be like them, to support his herd, his family, until his last breath. To be able to prove himself.

But first, he must swear his allegiance to a herd, and begin the slow but fruitful trail into their midst. He hoped to have that same trust that the others had shown his father, to have his herd be also his family. Tolio was wild, mischievious. But he had the ability to be serious and gentlemanly. Now, it was time for those two separate souls in him to merge.

And so he reared up, stocky hindquarters keeping him balanced as he let loose a beckoning whinny, trumpeting to the skies for somebody to come to him. When at last his hooves touched down again, and the song died from his throat, Tolio flicked his tail; the bright white streak flashed in his vision momentarily before settling once again. He did not lower himself to wait, nor did he continue his wandering. He would not appear weak in front of those whom he'd called for. Who they were he did not know. He waited, the birds flitting down in the wakes of his startling call, some even curiously- bravely- hopping around his hooves. It was this time that he had waited for, for nearly two years. Tolio could wait once again.