He gazed around hoping to find something that would have use back at home so he wouldn’t have to make another long travel. Finally, he figured he might as well pick up dried grass, so that he could make a bed for himself at his distant cave, for cold, hard ice was not too comfortable to sleep on and was painful as a result in the morning. Comanche left his bag sitting on the rock and trotted over to the long, untouched weeds. He tugged and pulled mouthful by mouthful, spitting them out to the side of him.

When he had almost two full stacks of grass, he went back to his bag and took some long string, tying it around the stack. The stag smiled and loaded the two into his antlers. As he walked back to his bag, he heard thundering hooves from what smelled like a mare. But he kept advancing forward until he reached the river bank and then turned around to find, yet another, painted mare. ”What is up with all these double-colored mares?!” He shook his dome and ignored the thought. His head dipped towards the mare, but as he was acting generous, his thoughts were swerving a different direction.

He disliked mares, but had all respects for them also. Comanche had always thought that mares were always full of themselves. Always they had to be number one. They fought over the studs and then after that, they left them with no words at all. It was all nonsense to him. The boys would fall in love, then the lady would wrap him around her hooves, then leave him! All the work was for nothing. Comanche had learned this too, and it wouldn’t take any other male to learn it too, unless they were just foolish rats with no head at all.

”What exactly are you going to do with those? The last time I checked equines don't need bowls for survival,” Her voice soft and gentle, but also curious. The steed smirked at her and swished his tail. He didn’t exactly like the smart-mouthed ones, but it didn’t really seem like she was trying to be one of them. So, he continued on and picked up his bag, tossing it onto his antlers. “Who said I need it for survival?” Comanche questioned her with sarcasm and turned away, balancing across a few stone before finally reaching the other side of the river. ”Hello.” Another sweet voice of a mare spoke up and he slid around again to see who it was this time.

He smiled as he looked at a dapple grey mare, with one wing? His expression went from a welcoming gesture to a confusing look as he stretched his neck around to see if she had maybe dropped something behind or not. To see nothing on the trail behind her, he nodded and then looked back to her with a confused smile. Comanche decided not to ask about the other half of her bird structures and instead welcome her back as she did to the other mare and him. “Bonjour, of which I think means hello.” He dipped his dome and smiled, trying to decide whether he should leave or not, for he was not too well with words when it came to the mares. But if the two wanted a conversation, he could give them – an unpleasant speaking – conversation.

Comanche