R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.

The wearied figure of the sodden sorrel brute squeezed through the tight frost that bore so furiously upon the frozen ground. It had been some time before Ricciardo had managed to find his way through the trodden lands of Helovia, back to the place of his former herdmates. This land was not familiar to him, for this was not his homeland. It was still reeling in his head, what had happened on that fateful day. All the flame-kissed steed could cast back to was challenging another, before flying down into the darkness of unconsciousness, only to be woken by the intruder's scents washing over his homeland.

Wincing, he took a step further into the unknown. The Sandman was ironically named in these times; the cold causing his frame to shake underneath the weight of the extreme temperatures he so desperately loathed. With a glance through his sanded orbs, he took in his surroundings. The Frostbreath Steppe was all but another wearied land, frozen to the point where he could not bear it. But the scents of herdmates from the Edge wafted their way up to his soft nostrils, nearly a welcoming. Even though Ricciardo had never found love or belonging in his herd, he knew that it was his familiar and he would stick by them.
"It is all I can do in the end..." his voice was tinged with deep melancholy.

The frozen ground crunched vigourously underneath his daggers as he plodded on with little direction or motivation for anything. The scenery slowly swerved past him as he occasionally flicked his tail silks from side to side and twitched his lobes with dissatisfaction. Nothing was as he remembered. The brute was totally against such change, but he was in conflict within his own frame at having to cope with it. But here there was nothing. Feeling evermore dejected, the amber pelted Sandman continued along his journey, in the hope of finding another of his stricken herd, cast out from their mighty lands.

It probably would have been a better option to find refuge in his sacred sands to the West, but knowing that the frosted devil would follow him anywhere, Ricciardo thought it best to search for his herdmates instead. "It has been too long since I have summoned the courage." Knowing that he had failed the herd, he was dreading his return. He had spent many moons cast out in his own bubble, swallowing his tattered pride and facing the facts - he would never be anything more than a nobody. He turned his handsome crown to let his pools take in another glance at everything, before laying his gaze upon the terra firma.