It was still dark, but at least it wasn't so damned cold anymore. As minute as that might seem to anyone else, it meant the world to Alleo. He detested the winter, loathed the snow, and abhorred the icicles that would form on his whiskers and dangle there, taunting him. While he couldn't wait for the sun to finally rise, he had a hard time completely hating the darkness like so many of his herdmates seemed to. He liked looking up at the moon and the stars and trying to count the millions of them that sparkled ever so gently in the sky.

His hooves scraped across the ground as he walked, eventually leaving the grass behind as he sunk into the sand. The beach. His ears tilted forward and he paused as he listened to the crashing ocean waves. His tail twitched and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown. Alleo didn't particularly care for the ocean, but what would be the harm in standing on the beach and listening? His weight shifted as he contemplated turning around and going elsewhere, but a sudden surge of stubbornness drove him forward. He had wanted a break from the Foothills and he'd be damned if a little bit of water drove him back home.

The pale stallion snorted and trotted forward, tail flicking back and forth, his mismatched eyes wide as he tried to see more thoroughly through the darkness. The sand began to harden and, still, he trotted forward. Waves crashed forward, washing over his legs and he froze mid-step. The water was a lot closer than he had anticipated. Another wave soaked him to his knees and he snorted again then turned on his heels and cantered up the beach to where the sand was soft and supple and had not been touched by the ocean water.

Once he felt comfortable he stopped and slowly turned back to the ocean berating himself mentally because he had run from the ocean. What was he, a foal? He sighed and looked up at the sky and all the millions of stars that twinkled down at him. Often he wondered how many souls were up there among the stars that had been guided by the gentle gods of his homeland. There was one thing he knew for sure; and that was that neither of his dreadful parents were up there. He wouldn't see them until he went to Helovia's Heart because he was sure they were down there burning in the hell that they wanted to create.

Alleo stood looking up at the stars, counting them in his head though he would never be able to count them all and he would eventually end up counting the same ones over and over again. What would it be like to be up there, looking down on the world? One day he would know because he would be up there. He would die an honorable death like his forefathers before him, with the exception of his father, of course. Torfa would guide him and he would become a guardian star and would shine down on his sisters because even in death he would watch over and protect them. A grin curled the corners of his mouth and the stallion closed his eyes and shook his head. Only seven years old and he was already planning on what he would do when death claimed his body and his spirit ascended.

His eyes snapped back open and he looked back toward the ocean. How could he not notice that he hadn't been alone on the beach? His ears tilted forward and he whinnied back. Seriously, how had he not noticed the glowing marking just above the water and the way the moonlight outlined her slim frame? Oh gods, and he had run from the ocean like a scared little foal. It was not a good first impression and Alleo was all about making a good first impression. His weight shifted, pale hooves scuffing the sand. He'd just have to make a better second impression.

When the mare stayed in the water Alleo finally gave in and ambled forward, only stopping when the water rushed over his fetlocks. His muscles remained tight, but he did not turn and flee the water. The stallion cleared his throat and gave a friendly smile. "Hello." he said, trying not to flinch when the water rushed over his fetlocks once more. "I'm Alleo." Smooth, real smooth. He grimaced to himself. His second impression, it seemed, wasn't much better than his first. If it weren't for the water he would be perfectly at ease and would have a pleasant conversation with a complete stranger.

Damned water.

Alleo watched the mare's every move closely as she began to remove herself from the water, though he found she was moving teasingly slowly. His ears flicked back against his head before tilting forward once more. She edged past him and he got a closer view of the marking that had been glowing on her side. A hawk? His head tilted so he could continue to look at it, but he was effectively distracted when her muzzle bumped against his shoulder. He blinked then returned the bump, though his muzzle touched her side in his delayed reaction. All the while he shifted his weight so he could watch her and not allow her to get behind him. A warrior's instinct was not one that could be ignored.

"That's an interesting marking you've got, Miss Rasta." He nodded his head to her side, but he could already tell that she would not see. He'd caught how milky her eyes were in the moonlight and it was hard to miss how she looked in his general direction without looking directly at him. "Where'd you get it from, if you don't mind my asking." As he voiced his question he stepped out of the water, relaxing almost immediately.

"I thought I could use a break from my herd." Alleo answered Rasta's question. "Sometimes herd life can be... suffocating." He stepped closer, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the scents that circled around him. Her scent was different from the ocean and from the Foothills. "You smell of desert." He said. "You come from the Dragon's Throat?" He had yet to pay that land a visit, but he had heard enough of the desert land and had traveled through enough deserts to know the smells.

Marking. I'm not quite sure exactly what you mean...

Alleo was quiet for a moment, unsure of what to say because he should have known that she wouldn't know what he was talking about. He frowned and thought about how he could explain what the marking looked like without possibly insulting her. It also made him wonder just how long the mare had been unable to see. If she'd been born without vision then she wouldn't know what a hawk or a bird looked like. If she lost her sight and and was left with only her memories of what colors and animals looked like. He looked up at the sky once more as if the stars would give him some sort of guidance over what he should say so he wouldn't put his hoof in his mouth, but they were silent as always just content to twinkle and shine.

"It's a hawk." He finally said, deciding that he would just tell her what it was and if she didn't know what of was he could just explain it after. "On your left flank. The moonlight makes it look like its glowing." It was quite an attractive marking, it was just a shame that she could not see it.

Their conversation moved on and she asked if he came from the Foothils. "I do." He responded. "I serve as a warrior in their ranks." Though he had yet to see battle. His youngest sister had participated in the recent Edge invasion and he'd been left to patrol the borders of their home, but he didn't question the General's decision. "It is complicated." He agreed. "But it is what being part of a herd is all about. You act for the benefit of all, must be ready to defend those in your herd who cannot fight or are to young or old to defend themselves." That was one of the things he found so suffocating at times.

He was quiet. He seemed to figure out what was wrong with his statement. She could not see, so she did not know of her marking. He seemed to be mulling over his thoughts, as if he were trying to find the way to explain it so that he might not insult her further. She almost wanted to laugh at the trepidation he seemed to be struggling through, from the uncertainty of how his words would turn out.

One glance up to the sky from the stag and then he spoke. It's a hawk. Rasta shuffled her feet, leaning a little bit more towards her left side, bearing the weight as she listened to the comforting sound of the waves as they lapped up against the shore line. "I don't... recall ever having this marking. I might have gained it when I lost my original companion crossing over here..." she mused, giving a light shrug of her shoulders and flicking her tail against the smooth sand.

She questioned his origins, as he had hers, and he confirmed it in about the same manner. He was a warrior. It was complicated, as was life, but it is what being a part of a herd was about. "It is a bit more complicated when you used to rule over a vast land before getting thrown out like rotting meat..." she murmured under her breath. A deep breath in, and then she lifted her maw slightly, a grin falling on her face. "The question is, really, if you even care to act for the benefit of all..." she added, tilting her head delicately to the side. "You seem as though something might have made you reconsider, pride doesn't necessarily radiate off of your frame..." she said, not feeling him standing tall and confident. No, all she felt was a lost stag trying to figure out what he was doing.