It’s probably about time that the Warlander returns to the Edge—his herd land, his home (even though it has yet to resemble anything of the word). Granted, he tends to be a fairly nomadic individual on most days, so the lack of attachment to the thick mists and moist forests is not entirely surprising; he tries, and that is enough for now.

A short while has already come and gone since his official acceptance—another bloody battle won, and then even more blood and…mess…while lingering at the side of the little bay mare, the terrible event of her pregnancy an experience that he both cherishes and detests. How fickle and strange the heart can be.

Having escorted her safely to borders of her own mountain home, the antlered stallion had wasted little time in bidding her farewell. She had protested at first—beckoning for him to join her, to step inside, fearful of her solitude—but already aware of the guiles and temptresses that lay wait in that northern Basin, he had stood fast in his rejection. Let them bring their sirens out to him, drawing their enchantments out from the mountain’s shadow (for if he were to step into their fold, he fears he would be too weak to escape from Jezebel’s call, and his pride is much too stubborn to allow that). And so even with her silent scowl piercing his back (adorable in her little tantrum), he had continued his way to the west.

It is with an unceremonious flare that Rohan finally crosses into the familiar borders, his large, sweeping gait carrying him proudly forward. Cautiously he steps over the shattered remains of the glass wall, a few long threads of his tail snagging on the jagged shards and he casts a short glance over his shoulder. “Just as welcoming as ever,” he laughs dryly to himself, brown lips twisting into something of a cynical smirk before he presses on again.

The glimmering light of mid-dusk filters in through the trees, laying a patchwork of shadows across the ground, left damp from the heavy mists of spring. Beneath the leafy green boughs, the land is cast into a haze, the stallion’s body haloed by golden light from the sun’s dying glow. He breathes easily, dark-rimmed ears resting at idle attention, little more than the occasional chirping of a bird to accompany the muted sound of his hooves.


notes; For Nuray, but open to anyone who wants to hop in! I'd like him to become more acquainted with his herd xD
“Speech.”

     RUN AWAY WITH ME
lost souls and reverie; running wild and running free.