He was deep in the woods again, surrounded by his beloved conifers and the sounds of a forest. It was relaxing, really, to get away from the rest of the world and to just exist out here. Little mattered besides taking in each breath of fresh air. There was no drama, no chaos, no uneeded noise. Of course, there was also no one to talk to, no one to watch. That was the down side of coming out here, as he so rarely was able to. Stretching his wings, he took the liberty of looking over them, searching for a bent feather or a speck of dirt. It was a flaw of his, this vain attitude towards his wings, and he was constantly keeping them as nice as he could. His pride would hardley allow him to have sullied feathers for very long. Unless, of course, they were coated in mud while enjoying a good romp with a friend's colt, or something to that nature. It wasn't that he thought his wings were any better than anyone elses, it was more of an... attatchment to them and to what gift they bestowed upon him.

The stallion was lying on the ground, his back against a giant conifer. The woodland creatures, all of whom had grown used to his presence on his many treks to this location, were skittering about the snowy ground, attempting to keep themselves warm. Silverwings was far from chilled by the brisk air here. In fact, he thought it very comfortable. There was nothing he would trade this place for. The only thing he could possibley want at that moment was another to come along, one that could provide him with some entertainment.