From atop the high peaked foothills the forest had seemed inviting and familiar. The expanse of green leaved trees was not unlike the one he had lived in since his birth, which was namely the reason he had been persuaded to descend from the higher trails and slip into the trees. He was fatigued from the long journey, taking little opportunities to rest and travelling mainly by the cover of night. He was no longer looked upon kindly in his homeland, and so leaving it had been the necessary course of action. He had at first been reluctant to leave, but consoled himself with the thought that it would be profitable, perhaps, to work with a change of scenery and a new identity. In such rough condition, however, whoever came across him was more than likely to form an unappealing opinion.

His forelock was dampened by the dew that had gathered in the early morning air, mane hanging in heavy strands down his neck. It had not been an easy trek from the foothills, and his limbs were soaked to the knees with mud, reddened by scratches from clawing brambles. A cloud hung over the stallions head, fatigue dragged at his eyelids, and all he wanted was to rest, yet the wet ground would not do anything to better the condition he was in. He was glad that winter was over, and he could now look forwards to the warm embrace of summer.

The forest seemed to hold a feeling of serenity within its ancient branches, and a quiet calm spanned throughout the entirety of the woods. He felt a strange sense of belonging under the shadows of the budding tree limbs, among the sea of mist that had come with dawn. With a flurry of bird song, a sparrow lit from a branch and flitted over his head, tan wings beating the air as it caught the wind and was borne above the trees. The creatures in the forest seemed at comfort; lazily sung notes were trilled by blackbirds perched high in the trees, filling the chilled air with a soft and lilting music. Roland dipped his head, picking his way through the budding, awakening trees. Rays of diluted sunlight slanted through the leafy branches, scattering in the thick mist. It wrapped around the trees and moved with the breeze, pushed like a current of water as it wound through the forest and parted around the stallion's chest.

Roland wandered with no particular aim or direction, walking where the ground lead him and throwing caution to the wind. He stopped only when he arrived at a break in the trees, the ground sloping steadily downwards before his hooves. It formed a small bowl like the palm of a hand sunk into the ground, water cupped in its grasp. A layer of ghostly mist lingered over it, and sunlight glinted off the water's surface. Above him, the blanched sky was beginning to regain colour, vibrant streaks of pink snaking across the horizon.

Desperate to get clean, Roland didn't hesitate to wade into the frigid pool, sinking in up to his elbows. He let out a hiss as the cool water swirled around him, biting into his skin like shards of ice. With some difficulty the mud was washed from his limbs, along with the blood of unnoticed wounds. Refreshed, he emerged once again and relaxed by its bank. In small rivulets like drops of ice, the cold water streamed across his champagne pelt and down his legs, pooling around his feet. The frigid temperature seemed to clear his mind of some of the troubling fog, and he gazed off into the distance with a contemplative look, watching as the sun shone against the distant, hazy mountains.

walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"