It was cold; bitterly, bitterly cold. It was on days like today that Fuego regretted his choice in coming to this land; before this, he had known a life of warmth among the sands of the northern desert. But after losing yet another friend to the hostile environment, Fuego decided that enough was enough; it was time for him to move on and find a place that was less...determined to kill everything that moved.
Still, he hadn't counted on winter. Though there was no snow on the ground this close to the coast, the temperatures were still bitterly cold to the red stallion and Fuego found himself once more feeling almost pathetically grateful for the thickness of his mane; the very hair he'd cursed in the desert heat was proving a godsend in the cold of the Kawani lands. At least that was something to be thankful for, he mused as he made his way along.
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