Though it was in the middle of winter, the lower altitudes of the plains and forests usually managed to stay relatively tolerable, temperature wise. It was to these territories the young foal stuck to, using them as one big playground. Flint had been alone for some time. Having been separated from his mother, he had not panicked, but embraced his sudden independence, resolving to meet up with her again eventually. How could he pass up this opportunity, anyway? The world was so big and interesting, and he wanted to see what he could, to run and play whenever he pleased.
Today he had wandered further into the forest, to a little pond that he liked. It sat at the end of a gentle and slow-flowing stream, and he knew other soquili came and went, because he could smell them. He always made sure he was by himself though, or tried. Frequently, he would flee others, not wanting them to interfere with his newly found lifestyle.
Sticking his head out from the brush, he peered about. Seeing no one else around, he bounced out onto the loamy bank, snorting happily. He pounced right into the water, kicking up a bit of mud, before trudging upstream to lean down and take a drink.
