Freebird

A sassy snort bounced back at him, and he listened, registering the emotion of it. Definitely of the High Kind. However, the snort was followed a beat later by a sudden ruckus—a scraping, clattering sound of sudden descent, and a rueful chuckle that was surprisingly close.

It was feminine, and definitely not a wolf. Still, the tall stallion was cautious as he made his way forward, stepping lightly and craning his long neck to peer around the bend. He didn’t think the other horse – mare – was in any danger if she was laughing, so he didn’t charge in with hooves coiled and teeth bared to attack a predator that could not only hurt a fellow horse, but cause trouble with the pack he called home… family.

His lips twitched in a faint, amused smile. He could understand why his dam had loved Valhalla. Despite his species, the wolves had accepted him with open paws, and taken his intelligence in stride. He felt safe among the pack, and enjoyed spending time among them, watching their different culture and seeing Aurielle’s children grow. It still touched him with an ache, ushering memories of watching his foals, either his own or sired by stallions from bands he’d managed to steal a mare from, growing into themselves, finding their strides.

The mare he clapped eyes on was short, and very clearly of northern breeding. Fjord, he thought. Her rump's dustiness and scraped hind legs spoke of her sudden change from up high to ground level and he winced sympathetically. Those were annoying places to get hurt, especially the stinging, itching feeling of blood welling.

“Are you alright? That sounded painful.” His rumble was gentle, and he remained at a distance. For one it wasn't breeding season, and for another, he wasn't in the market for gathering a band, having a home and different rules to live by now. So he simply regarded her with his usual kind curiosity, though the rest of his tall, glowing, hairy frame was still tucked around the bend out of sight at her angle.

He was quietly glad that he’d brought one of the pouches along that contained a field kit, though the rest of the pouches slung over his withers and lashed into place around his barrel and chest were empty, for filling with pretty stones. Though most of his attention remained on the mare, his eyes did flick down to the rubble, marking that she’d actually knocked quite a few nice pieces into reach. Wangui and Isolde had gone farther afield, but he didn’t doubt either of them would be arriving soon at the sounds of possible problems.

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think