Screw this. Running away was never an option for him, and yet, he was running. But no, not away. He was tired of the annoying mares who did nothing but bicker and threaten each other. He was tired of waiting, waiting, and never getting. Tired of lieing to everything, everyone. Danggit he was just tired! He huffed and kicked at some stones, watching them shoot away from him. He slowed as he started to near farmillar territory. He had to be careful. He didn't want to end up on his mother's doorstep.
He stopped beside a brook, perhaps an offshoot of the river or lake. The sun was starting to set, though its light filled the field, even illuminating some of the surrounding forest. His mane and tail sparkled, like his mothers always did. After drinking his fill, for now, he set about collecting and replacing the flowers about his mane and tail, expecting, and rather hoping, he would be alone.
