10-13-2017, 10:37 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take For all his fitness, the piebald stallion is unfairly match against the altitude of Hyaline. As he climbs the southern side of the slopes, he does so at a leisurely pace, chatting with @[Zhenga] about almost-forgotten childhood memories. The sun had barely risen when they had left the hills of Loess, and now the midmorning light shines off his opalescent scales, muted somewhat by the long fringe of his tangled black mane. A half year out of the water had smoothed it, yet the ringlets of his once-familiar cords are returning here and there. He had found a spring, after all, deep enough and dark enough to satisfy his more primal urges. He is not reflecting on those as he winds his way up the rocky slope, picking his way up a path that is clear but unfamiliar. He has been to Hyaline thrice before, but never from directly south. Following the river is an easier trek, but it won’t give them the view of the lake that he suspects this route will The smoky black and white stallion is breathing shallow (far differently than after their recent race up the bluff) and he looks back at Zenga’s familiar roan face. “Almost there,” He tells her with a grin. “It’s worth the effort, I promise.” In time, they reach the peak of the mountains, and below them is a forest that holds the border of the land. Each step lower is a relief to his beleaguered lungs, and he is breathing more easily by the time he draws to a halt. “The border,” he says to Zhenga beside him. He raises his head, releasing a long call that he knows will echo down the mountain side. He suspects they might be found even before someone hears and answers his call; the smell of horses is far thicker here than on his last foray. He’d not been paying much attention when he’d come to sneak away with Castile, but it seems the population of the mountain retreat has grown. |