Welcome to Gaia! ::

Wanderlust had chased him like hounds at his heels that night, and no matter how much he had shifted in the thicket of his bed, he could not sleep.

And so he ran. He ran from the small copse of trees where he had made his bed, and galloped across the rolling planes outside of the forest. He ran until his legs screamed for mercy, and ran until his body ached – but the pain was glorious. It made him feel liberated, and for a moment – if only for a moment – he believed that if he ran just a little faster, the wind would pick him up and carry him away.

His black form glistened like polished ebony, beads of sweat collecting at his flanks, but he refused to stop. Though his mane tangled and caught, his hooves continued to beat the ground.

Not even the river slowed him.

He crashed through it with a clatter of hooves, tearing through the late night silence like a freight train. Only when he got to the other side did he pause, mane heavy with water and body dripping with a soft pitter-patter in harmony with the river. Ferrao tossed his mane and stood there, legs trembling, body heaving.

He gave his ears a noncommittal flick and lifted his head, jerking backwards and nearly into the river when he finally spotted Septimus.

“Y-you…!” he began, laughing with a bit of a hysterical note. “Scared me! I apologize if –“

His words trailed off, thought unfinished.

His mouth opened and closed as he searched for words he did not find in attempts to defend himself in front of her accusations. But instead he stood there looking all the more like a fish out of water, not so much because he was soaking wet, but because his jaw was moving and nothing came out. His gave his tail a flick, or tried, but it was too loaded down with water to move much if at all.

“I didn’t mean to…interrupt your walk,” he bit out, ears twitching back with a sprinkle of water. He gave his head a bob, but his wet mane refused to budge and only clung to his face all the more. Way to look regal, Ferrao.

He shied away from her sudden change of mood, one brow striking upwards quicker than a two-legger could strike a match. His scarlet eyes were fastened upon the mare’s face as she studied him, hooves planted firmly on the ground. The cool night air caught against his damp fur, and his skin crawled with a sudden shudder. Why was he apologizing again?

“Enjoying the view?” It wasn’t something he would normally say, nor was sarcasm something he was intimately acquainted with, but it was there, loud and clear.

Ferrao felt affronted by the mare’s boldness, though he should have been used to it having such a forward sister. If he were intimidated by her sauciness, he did well to hide it from her. His gaze followed her, but he was not as analytical of her as she was of him. Why were females so coquettish these days? He almost felt like laughing, but all that tugged the corners of his lips was a minute smile – and a sort of hopeless one at that.

He could have lied to get himself out of the situation, apologized and have been on his way…but he didn’t. Not that he didn’t want to, he reasoned, but because he was a horrible liar. And plus, it was a nice night – he figured this with a quick flick of the eyes to the moon – and it deserved a little company. Nights like this should be savored, not barreled through.

Although the company was not exactly choice.

“I’ve no one to meet at the end of my race, so I suppose I will accompany you,” he breathed, heart still quivering after the run. His shoulders rolled beneath the down of his coat, and he took a step down the pebbly shoreline; he threw a glance back at the mare.

“Although you may not receive that apology you so want. I’ve done nothing wrong!”

There was a note of teasing in his voice.

His scarlet eyes swung upwards again, amusement catching him as though beneath the chin.

"So why ask for what you don't want?" he responded with a mild laugh. There was a calmness to the trickle of the stream and to the stillness of the trees and grass - it was as though even the wind was watching her toes as she swept through, barely brushing them as she went. Ferrao closed his eyes momentarily as he walked, footing as sure and firm as the earth below. And twice as damp! A ripple rent through him again: the water that still clung to his coat was unnerving.

He peered at the mare through the fall of his mane, as though he were squinting through the dark. What exactly was she trying to get at? He tensed up and looked away, both movements drawing himself inward as he threw his focus ahead of them.

"My name is Ferrao," he said. One ear swung back, "And yours? As it's only polite to ask, isn't it? I can't say that I've seen you around, nor can I say claim you must be new -- I barely leave the lands of my father as it is."

"That...that is a good way to live." He finally turned his face to look at her, nodding with an envious satisfaction. If only he had that kind of strength, if only he knew it were in him to leave, but obligation tethered him down. The mountains were a dark outline, barely visible as they melted against the night sky - but they were there, always there, soft-voiced and teasing as they called to him. He broke from his reverie with a snort.

"A little cold, yes, but sometimes that's just what you need to wake yourself up. Makes you sharper and more aware."

At the mention of winter, a soft light brightened his eyes, and in his momentary joy his guard fell. He looked at the mare like a colt would, a smile not only on his mouth but upon his face.

"It'll be my first winter, you know! I was told about snow, and I really can't wait for--" he caught himself, swallowed his words, and looked away abashed. That wasn't exactly something he had planned to tell another, especially someone so foreign. For a while all that could be heard from him were his careful footfalls.

She was so much different from he, he noted. He was a homebody, whereas she...she had wandered. For all Ferrao knew, she had listened to her heart and had been lead by her legs far, far away. He watched her for a time, chewing over his initial judgment of the mare and going back on his word. She was strong, he was deaf. His eyes looked to the mountains again.

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Septimus," he finally said. Ferrao paused, slowing as he did, and glanced over at her again, gaze earnest, "Where did you come from, if may I ask? And...why?"

"Perhaps," he echoed. A sound rumbled against his chest, rose up, and left him in a soft 'whuff' of air; a laugh, quiet and solitary. "And maybe when it snows and the water freezes, I'll come back here and crash through the ice. The colder the water, you know...."

A ludicrous idea, no doubt, but a humorous act of whimsy he could not yet let go of.

Ferrao stopped when Septimus had and listened to her words, ruminating on them like one would do with food. He focused on the border of the wood with her vision wavering just on the outline. He did not find it strange that she had more or less confessed - in a sense, anyway. Sometimes it was easier to speak with a stranger than it was a loved one, because they did not know enough to judge.

"Maybe you're searching for something," he said gently. "And you just haven't found it yet. But at least you listen to that call. I "- he paused, continued -"think I have everything. My family, these lands, but I've heard the song before. I hear it now."

He fell silent and his eyes drifted shut.

"But the difference between you and I is that you follow it, and you sing with it. I must admit: I envy you."