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The white crow wound between the bare trees, savoring the silence and protection from the bitter wind. The breeze that still swept between the boughs was much less harsh than the updraft he had caught to fly most of the way here. The painted mare who had extended the invite told him the place, though with the trees growing denser, he couldn't imagine there being enough room anywhere for a herd to meet. His silver eyes were dark, lacking the bright reflection as he was cast in shadow. The snow began to thin the more he walked. His strides opened, his long legs carrying his massive size smoothly.
His ears picked up unfamiliar voices. He then caught the familiar bell of Tor, and his nerves lifted. At least she would be able to give a quick explanation on why he was wandering into the meeting, silent as a ghost, and seemingly refusing to give a word.
Soon the trees broke away, exposing a bald spot within the forest. Six horses formed a wide circle, and he noticed four with horns, one winged, and the wonderful Tor. He lifted his long head high, carrying it on his thick, sloped neck. His body held no malicious or savage intent, and he remained relaxed as to show no threat to the small herd. Body language was everything to this mute stallion.
He paced around the group, coming to a stop beside Tor. He touched her shoulder lightly with the tip of his soft muzzle, a silent hello. He was sure he looked clingy, but in a new world, she was familiar. He would soon find other connections to stand by, but for now she was his voice. He gave a small bow to the rest of the group, lifting one obsidian hoof and dipping his head. Hello, all, her murmered in his head, but all he let out was a frosted sigh.
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