Honeyed Pasture king forever, ceasing never

He had learned young to be attentive and keen if he ever hoped to stand a chance, and this had also taught him to toe a fine line between what was too much and just enough. While she prickled about him, possibly, he was not finding out himself outright rebuked--not yet, anyway, and he reasoned some stiff furs were understandable, especially if her home was close, or she had much to be protective of out here. Being a good stone's throw away from the mountain left him only watching out for his own hide, and trusting (perhaps naively) his long legs to carry him beyond trouble should it start to come for him; maybe he was more relaxed that he should be while curiosity kept nudging him closer. Although he resisted the full brunt of it well enough, he could still feel it in his ears--some vaguely familiar, low thrum of a note.

Wind chasing? he asked, head tilting and rest of him perking, never having heard the term. He only very literally imagined what it could mean. He wondered how to catch it, or if that was even any end-goal here. I've never been here before. Well.. not properly enough to look around, he detailed. Maybe Charon had guided them through this meadow here, but he didn't recall exactly. By this point in their trip, he had been zeroed in on the end-goal of the Bay, so the rest had been mere stepping stones. Now, less focused, he could be bothered to take it in, and wanted to explore more.

I'm Jarilo, the grayscale yearling offered, eyes bright and tail swaying softly.