Sleepy Fox Hollow hayride

She assumed he’d perhaps led no herds then- or perhaps only for a short time before being uprooted. Gotta lose a few times before you learn how to win. Fancy advised. And by the way you sent that paint stud flyin’, I’d say you’ve learned plenty. The fight had been short, the victor obvious. 

He seemed most at home with herds- bigger ones, she suspected. To be as well socialized as Colosseum was, he must have spent a fair bit of time among the herds he did not lead. 

Proving his fertility was of interest to Fancy; two years ago, she had not caught- and going a year without a foal after three years of having them had been joyless. She and Selenia needed a herd stallion who could not only protect them, but help the herd grow. 

She uttered a soft grunt in agreement. Safety was never guaranteed- but it sounded as though his foals were in good company at least. 

Her head lifted at the suggestion that he might share a story. A battle story, she thought, for sure- for while colts listened to the same legends as fillies, by the time they became yearlings or by the time their testicles began to drop, most colts lost all taste for stories of Equus, or any stories that weren’t merely one stud bragging to another. 

I’ll listen, She said, whisking her tail against her side. She shifted her weight, allowing one hind foot to rest on its toe as she flicked her ears forward.