Sleepy Fox Hollow rhyolite

he followed the soft sounds of voices, cautious as any prey should be, and stopped when he heard the far-off howl of a wolf. maplesmoke waited for a moment, two, three; listening, attentive to the forest until he was certain there was no threat. with a huff, he moved again.

as he arrived upon the scene he pushed aside foliage with his chest, and paused again. there were distant equine shapes - subtly rounder than he remembered - and they both appeared in good spirits. little did maplesmoke know of the truth: of the struggles they had endured without him.

the stallion whickers in their direction and waits to be seen, accepted or driven away.