The stallion had decided to take a little time away from the Grove and his father's territory deep in the heart of Islagiatt. Though winter was loosening its embrace in the hills, the snows had yet to melt and the stallion had decided to seek out a spot of warmer weather. So down the mountains he had flown, managing to spend a few days in the foothills before continuing further south. The change in weather and climate was apparent and obvious. There was little snow and the grasses were greener and much tastier than in his familiar hills. Furthermore, there was a warmth on the breeze that spoke of better days to come and the ebony stallion could appreciate the warm touch of sunlight on his back.
Today though was a bit of an odd day. He hadn't quite made it the flat plains, and instead had lingered in a small valley between the hills. A fog had rolled in and was rather 'stuck' between the hills. It was thick and made seeing clearly rather difficult. . . . but with luck, the later the day became most of it would be burned away by the sun. Everything looked rather eerie in the mid-day fog, and the soft blue-glow of his orbs seemed to radiated around the black stallion.
Treading quietly through the small valley, he heard the water before he actually found it. A small stream snaked its way before him, the waters thick and rushing due to snow melt from the higher hills and mountains. Giving his wings a good stretch, in no rush to continue on his journey away from Islagiatt, the stallion lowered his head and began to drink.
