Honeyed Pasture sworn before a light of knife's edge white

Whether or not he hears the question remains unclear but a grin splits his muzzle and he speeds up a little, pressing through the grasses with ease. He doesn’t have a clue where he’s going, only glimpses of the terrain through the lope is what he has to go on. For a while, he can allow himself to feel the spirit of freedom instead of purpose and make all the best efforts to lose his newest companion.

Suddenly, he takes a sharp curve and circles back before burying himself into the ground and panting heavily. The grass above him begins to still and he looks out, scenting the air for any clue where she’d gone.