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The leaf-dappled sunshine filtering through the trees overhead flickered as a wind rustled the canopy. The signs of spring were all around, noticeable in the birds that busied themselves with building nests, in the bucks that fought for the right to mate, in the budding flowers that covered the dogwoods, and in the primroses that were giving the atmosphere a fragrant quality. The undergrowth would shiver as a large brute forced the bracken and bramble tendrils to part ways. The thorns raked against his dun-hued body in a pleasurable manner and as he walked onwards, his dark ears flicked forwards in interest.
The stallion flexed his neck into an arch and stretched his stride to resemble a lilting trot. He reached a deer track and followed the path towards... well, wherever his hooves could take him, really. For the first time in a long time, the stallion felt free. He had been forced to leave his spiteful lead mare behind and now that she and all the pressing matters of the herd were no longer a problem for him, he could do as he pleased. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like to be a bachelor stallion. The idea that there were no responsibilities weighing on his back, was a luxury he intended to cherish.
The stud bucked out his hind legs in exuberance. He almost felt like he had dropped a ton of seasons and was 7 years old again. He didn't know if this was because of the spell that only spring could weave in the minds of all male beings that made even the oldest of stags feel like they could kick down a mountain, or if it was truly due to his celebration of independence. Still, he had not been completely buck-wild since he came to Helovia. He'd been busy.
A new land meant new faces, new rules, new government, and new territories to conquest. He'd been busy gathering information on all the lands and their leaders to get a feel for where he wanted to rule from. First things first, however, he needed to make his presence known. So far, he had skirted around a direct challenge, or a meeting of any sort. A confrontation was inevitable, and thus he was here. Trotting through the land that unclaimed horses usually were either claimed or exiled. He had no intention of being "claimed." he was not an old mare to be staked a claim upon. The idea made him toss his mane in disgust as he trotted ahead.
Eventually, an unknown scent crossed his nose and forced him to a halt. He raised his head up high and peered through the lively, green shadows of the forest. pricking his ears to catch the sound of approaching hooves. Let the games begin.
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