Sleepy Fox Hollow piltover

Frost-laced whiskers danced and bobbed as the sorrel made lifted her head. Her breath caught in her throat, smothering the soft grunt of surprise. Nostrils flared and pinched as breath was drawn, and then expelled in a smoky little cloud as she snorted. She touched her muzzle to Selenia’s withers, feeling the icicle whiskers crunch. 

Wonder what this one’ll be like, She commented, but she kept her skepticism in check. With their sides beginning to bulge, they would be in need of more protecting with each passing month. The laws of their kind would have them accept the stallion regardless of his nature. Her braying call would lead him in their direction.