Lightning crackles off to the distance, a bolt of light screaming across the trees in white fury. He snorts, wondering how in the world that he ended up in a storm when he entered this place. It seemed indifferent like himself, where the land's soul itself fed off the indifference of its inhabitants. A pair of horns, red and curved like a ram's, begin in front of his black ears and wrap over the top of them, tips coming out at the base of his ears. Three bold white stripes begin at his withers on each side, and extend to the end of his shoulder blades, following his ribs. His body is black except for a small white spot on his chest. The build of the stallion is one different from most, a fragile yet elegant Arabian build with muscles like a draft underneath. A curtain of thick black wavy mane falls over his neck and face. His tail matches, only weighed down from the water within its mass. The weather seems to have a harsh welcome to him as a cold nip takes to the droplets falling from the gray masses above. He shakes in the chill, the excess amount of mane and tail keeping certain parts of him warm. The rest must face the elements alone.
Though the rain holds no mercy, he keeps pace at a walk. Blood moves through him a bit faster this way, and he finds this a simple way to keep warmer. Thunder rumbles overhead before another bolt of white light flies through the earth and sky. His red eyes stare upwards as it booms across the sky. Everything became a dead void the moment he entered this place. Certainly other souls commonly stopped in to take others away, yet he had yet to become lucky enough to stumble upon another. Loneliness would never take much effect to him, though it would be nice to have some type of company.
And suddenly the world seems to laugh at his misfortune. Rains fall harder, and he feels a light sting as the cold takes to it. Shivering, he takes to the nearest large tree that could allow him some release from the weather. He finds in it only in an Oak tree about ten strides ahead, and forces it upon himself to move there as fast as he came. Mud cakes onto his legs, and underneath his coven hooves he can feel shift under his weight. Reaching safety under the tree's branches, he can know take the time to see what had happened to himself. Mud covered his legs and lower body, having touched the ends of his tail. Both his mane and tail seemed to weight at least ten pounds as water put its weight to it. A sigh parts his lips, one of defeat. Not even a few hours here, and he is defeated. And by what?! The weather..... What an insult to such a proud stallion like himself.

OOC: This is uncommonly short for me so please excuse that. My next posts will longer as my muse warms up.