it's burning through the bloodline

The storms had come and ravaged the earth, as they were wont to do in that particular part of the year. Though he had little to compare it to, the year before had been surprisingly quiet, void of the destruction and devastation wrought in the present. The Plateau had come out relatively unscathed, or so he felt. He also had nothing to base that on, as other than riding out the hellacious weather they had only been able to hear snippets of the onslaught the overnight of days ago had brought.

What the weather had rendered remained widely unknown to him, but the herds had scattered only to still outside his range. He suspected they would return and had idly kept to himself once again — it was far easier to allow himself to let his thoughts consume him than perhaps consider the full extent of the storm that had come through. Whatever had happened outside of their territory did not matter to him. They were fortunate enough to have scraped by, he would soon discover.

As a call raised on the borders, it pulled him from the cascade of snowballing considerations in his purview. First and foremost of these came to Harlyn's stand, but his own budding options rested precariously on that narrow horizon. He cast them aside and composed himself as he made his way towards the outskirts of the Plateau, perhaps never truly that far away from them to begin with. The ever present outlier, he made decent time in getting there, though it was another indeterminate few minutes before he spied out Andalusia's form residing through the damp and wind-blown grasses.

With an easy smile to rest crookedly on his muzzle, he chuffed to draw her attention.