Sleepy Fox Hollow foolish men

colosseum didn’t take offense. if anything, the bay roan’s fire sparked a quiet amusement beneath his sandy-gold eyes. he eased to a halt a few lengths away, muscles loose beneath his roan coat, head slightly lowered—not submissive, just respectful. the kind of stance a stallion took when he wasn’t lookin’ to start nothin’... but wasn’t about to back down either.

ain’t callin’ you sugar, he said with that slow, easy voice, smooth as creekwater in spring. just bein’ sweet.

a glance over his shoulder at fancy and sundown, a quiet check. the herd was fine. fancy had handled the younger mare like only a seasoned lead could. his job now was keepin’ things calm, maybe even friendly.

didn’t mean to bother your graze. figured if we was sharin’ grass, i’d be polite and offer my name, not a challenge.

he took a breath, let the quiet settle. he didn’t crowd her. didn’t puff his chest or toss his mane like some fool colt tryin’ to impress. she wasn’t the type to be impressed by that anyway.

colosseum, he offered, voice steady, the smile still tuggin’ soft at the corners of his mouth.