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The buckskin trotted through the thick forest, each step a jarring reminder of the disfigured horn piercing his flesh. He doesn’t really know why he keeps up the bumpy pace, it’s more habit than anything else. The Throat was a welcoming home, but the steed had always preferred solitude, and his travel had lead him to the Threshold. It was coincidence really, that he happened to overhear the strange tune of the little jenny, and whim that he decided the sound to be worth investigating. Ears flicker as he approaches, pinpointing the location of the noise maker.
Upon viewing the youngling, a rare smile crosses his expression. A donkey was the last thing he had expected to find, but it explained the odd braying that had caught his interest. After meeting the pegasus filly Nefertari, he found himself rather curious about the nature of foals in general, and approaching this little one seems quite the natural thing to do. He steps into her line of sight, though his bright golden pelt should have made his arrival obvious, and lowers his scarred face in a greeting. Dark eyes regard her silently, and he wonders where her mother is. Perhaps he has stumbled across a lost babe?
It saddens him that so many are without parents. Countless orphans, all seeking someone to shelter and guide them, though few find what they need. He himself has robbed children of their guardians, though he hopes that such days are past now. However, there is no way of knowing if this flicka is among the unclaimed. Perhaps her dam is nearby, out of eyesight and downwind. Either way, he resolves to watch the jenny until one more suited to the task appears. Or, if no mare steps forth, he will take the lost chit to the Throat with him, raise her himself. A daunting task, but it is simply not in him to leave her alone in the cold.
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And will crawl our way to the clear skies{Open}
