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12-15-2013, 04:10 AM
The warrior trudged through the muddy landscape to seek refuge in the Threshold forest until the rain passed. His white coat was dotted here and there with mud, and his fetlocks were brown with it. The white stallion didn't care though, continuing his journey deeper into the forest. The clouds darkened the place up, with shadows lurking in the forest, but the lad dismissed them with almost a roll of his eyes. Arrane's red tinged mane was plastered to his face with the water, a great discomfort as he finally managed to move it away from his snout.
But as he neared a hill, he heard voices in the distance. Curiosity drew the stallion near the horses speaking, and putting in little effort, he almost bounded up the hill. Living in the Windtossed Foothills had hardened him, from giving up at the beginning, to know trudging up it. The rain was inconvenience, softening up the ground and causing him to slip. Twisting his ankle slightly, he let out a little curse. "Pardon my French", he muttered to himself, continuing upwards.
There stood a mare, filthy from traveling through the forest and water. Her bay and white figure was covered with pine needles and dirt. Arrane stood there observing the tall stallion standing before him. With a kind smile, the white stallion walked up, still keeping a safe distance from the two. "Hello. Mighty fine weather?" Humor laced his confident voice as his smile slightly turned into a friendly smirk. "I am Arrane from the Windtossed Foothills", a happy smile appeared on his maw sensing the mare was exhausted. He wouldn't offer his home yet. It would be forcing the subject upon her--or even the stallion to quickly.
But as he neared a hill, he heard voices in the distance. Curiosity drew the stallion near the horses speaking, and putting in little effort, he almost bounded up the hill. Living in the Windtossed Foothills had hardened him, from giving up at the beginning, to know trudging up it. The rain was inconvenience, softening up the ground and causing him to slip. Twisting his ankle slightly, he let out a little curse. "Pardon my French", he muttered to himself, continuing upwards.
There stood a mare, filthy from traveling through the forest and water. Her bay and white figure was covered with pine needles and dirt. Arrane stood there observing the tall stallion standing before him. With a kind smile, the white stallion walked up, still keeping a safe distance from the two. "Hello. Mighty fine weather?" Humor laced his confident voice as his smile slightly turned into a friendly smirk. "I am Arrane from the Windtossed Foothills", a happy smile appeared on his maw sensing the mare was exhausted. He wouldn't offer his home yet. It would be forcing the subject upon her--or even the stallion to quickly.
