It was twilight, that magical hour between day and night, and Vytali was restless. It wasn't all that unusual--he was one of those stallions who, while he always returned 'home', not far from where he'd been born, was prone to wandering. It wasn't that he was really searching for anything, or particularly gung-ho about it...he just tended to start walking, and see where his hooves took him.
Wings pulled in close to his body, he pushed his way through thick underbrush, grunting when the occasional sharp thorn caught on his hair, or wings.
