Hoshor Plains You think we're the enemy.

@Prophet

It had been weeks since he'd seen any sign of Ankti, his mother. The herd continued regardless; horses milling around in the snow upon the plains, scratching feed lines in the dirt while trying to unearth something palatable. Not him, though. Lingering along the outer edge of the idle herd had become something of a habit — he was within reach if they sighted danger and decided to move, but the boy wasn't watching them. His eyes were on the world outside; where he could be disconnected, roaming like the rogue he knew himself to truly be. But something stopped him from leaving. 'Perhaps in the spring,' he thought as he paced.

'Maybe when mother is distracted by the next foal,' as it wasn't his duty to protect her, she was not his mare, and his father had not planted the seed within her this season; whatever amounted from the coupling would be lesser. Not a wind-walker, with the blood of a king in their veins. The colt snorted at the thought and banished such contemplations from his mind — tossing his head as he turned and began trotting along to another patch of snow.