Mauja the FrostHeart
ice cold man watches earth die, eternal winter takes its reign

The stallion whom they both endeavored to aid had backed out of the waters, he noted, mildly annoyed. Why scream and flail when you were perfectly able to crawl out of the shallows yourself? As they neared him, his gaze met with Huyana's; it was good of her, to follow him back to shore. Had curiosity pulled her in, or the tide? He didn't ask, just felt the hard-packed sand under his hooves and surged out of the water. It formed canals down his sides and legs, trickling down until it met the ever-lowering surface. A slight frown crossed the King's face as the stranger seemed to just stare dumbly between them for a moment, but then he gave his head a slight shake and the expression disappeared, tucked away safely in some deep, dark corner of his being. He continued to stride out of the sea until it only lapped at his fetlocks, and the only blood he could find was the stains dripping off a dead doe slung across the stranger's back; diluted with water it ran down creamy legs, pooling around his hooves, staining the damp sand dark. On this, Mauja's eyes fixed, but his ears swiveled to the sound of a stammered out explanation.

Drowning?

Amusement replaced annoyance, and he turned his head to give the mare at his side a bemused glance, as if perhaps sharing a secret - or confusion - with her. The ease with which she had moved in the waves made him guess she liked the sea... But this stranger's ignorance of it struck something deep inside the pale King's heart. He had always taken swimming for granted, and even his shaggy pony could swim - but what if others of his herd could not? It was not only a potentially lethal weakness if they for some reason fell into the sea, but they also missed out on something wonderful. He had to look into it... later.

"Drowning?" he echoed, mirth and slight surprise mingling in his voice. It played in his eyes, too, like the wind across a meadow. "No - merely swimming... but far out, yes. On calm days, it does no harm." He cocked his head to the side, his wet mane plastered uncomfortably to his neck. He'd probably have to roll in the sand tonight to get the salt out of his coat - and out of his feathers, too. He wondered how they'd take to such treatment, those black things that were his and yet not his at all. Oh, well. Perhaps they'd rename him King of the Shaggy Feathers. "For a moment, I thought you were the one drowning," he continued, the little smile still on his face. Not mocking, not precisely, for there was something open and gentle in his gaze. He waved at the beach with his horn. "Clearly, you weren't."