|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Mon Mar 30, 2015 7:06 am
 Head up, tail flagged behind him like a great banner streaming in the wind, the tall grey stallion jogged along the mountain ridge with the surefooted ease of one born in the highlands. The light dusting of snow that coated the grey rocks didn’t bother him, and was kicked up in little puffs of shimmering white as he passed.
He had left the herd in the capable hooves of his oldest friend, Stirling, while he scouted the mountains, patrolling his territory. Several of the herd had been scattered of late, seeking what little pasture was still available after the last harsh winter. Summer was coming and the grass would regrow, but it would be a little while yet until the land had sufficiently recovered from the frozen snows to feed the entire herd in one place. For now he monitored the smaller groups, usually families or the odd groups of adolescents, making sure they were safe and had suitable food and shelter. Every so often he would have to bring a group back to the main herd, usually the older members, or the youngsters experiencing their first winter solo.
Slowing as he reached a particularly narrow section of pathway he picked his way along the rocky ledge, jumped the newly formed gap where the rocks had split apart during the last deep freeze, and angled down the slope, headed to a small and secluded little valley where some of the herd would go when the winds were bad. Not the best grazing, but sheltered and relatively dry.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Sun Apr 05, 2015 6:05 pm
 Mists from the lower valley almost seemed to follow the stallion as he wandered up a haphazard trail towards the mountains higher reaches. The wind tugged at his hair in a teasing way, at least this is what he thought. His own light grey coat letting the mists look like they were just drifting off his body, the stallion's half lidded eyes stared mostly forward, but not quite. His pace was that of someone on a leisurely walk.
Higher he climbed, over rock and jutting root from one of the few trees and shrubs that littered this side of the mountain. The air was comforting, against the heat that laid in the lands below, here it was almost peaceful. Drifter as the stallion had come to be known, for his need to always be on the move, wandered higher the trail. To where he came across a strange bit of a valley. Stopping a moment, black hooves clattering against the stones here. Dark blue, ocean depths like, eyes glance around as the mists had left the grey and white socked stallion to be lonesome. Not that he minded after all.
"Curious little place." Drifter said quietly, looking around at the place. It had little to offer in means of roughage, but it seemed a suitable place to take up residence for the night or maybe a couple. Ears turning, there was that distant sound of hooves coming in his direction. Head raising a bit, he waited to see who it was, if anything, he was ready to leave at the slightest notice.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
