Sleepy Fox Hollow will you sing for me, even when i'm gone?

colosseum let out a dry, weathered chuckle, deep in his chest, teeth flashing as he looked over at his brother.

dirty work, brother, he muttered, still grinning, voice dragging like hooves through gravel.

he turned his head, slow, to glance at fancy—ever-watchful, ever-wary, no doubt keeping one ear tilted their way. then back to wolf, that same scruffy bastard who always had a smart remark tucked under his ribs like a burr.

the breeze shifted.
and for a moment—just a moment—they were colts again. flank to flank. gnawing grass and biting the air like it owed them something.

colosseum snorted once, then let the air coil in his lungs.

he reared.

a sudden, full-bodied rise—legs sharp against the sun’s dying glow, hooves slicing the air like blades. his mane caught the wind, wild and ragged, his tail flaring behind him in a flag of fire and ash.

he stayed there, balanced and bellowing, long enough to make a damn impression.

then he came down, heavy, proud, the earth thudding like a drumbeat beneath him.

a quick glance toward the mares, then a smirk shot sideways at wolf.

reckon they’re blushin’ now?