11-10-2017, 08:38 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take
The ice in his mane taps against his scaled neck with each step, quiet clinks that are muffled by the much louder crunch of snow beneath his hooves. The tall stallion moves along the familiar trail, glancing now and then down the steep bank to the rushing water below. It calls him, as it always does, but the coo of melted snow is not the strongest voice. Too cold, he knows; the urge to rest beneath the chilly water would be strong, and he has no time to take a winter’s rest. So he remains on dry land, intending to follow the curve of the river until it starts to rise. From there he will turn south and into the heart of Loess. The springs there are far warmer, heated by the earth below, and there he will stop. His trip to the field had been fruitless; winter is a hard season for recruits. Still, he knows that the common lands are often well-populated even in the bitterest weather, and the tobiano creature is alert, his flicking black ears and curious brown eyes taking in the scenery around him. He passes a few strangers down to drink at the river, but he does not call attention to himself. A low tree blacks his path, felled by the winter, and he leaps over it without hesitation. On the other side, he can see what the decaying branches had hid from him, a dark mare resting in the shelter beneath a tree. They are too close for him to simply ignore her without being rude, and so Ivar offers her a smile. It is bright on his handsome face, an expression crafted by millennia to best lure in prey. It conveys good-will, friendship – things that Ivar is certainly capable of. “Hello,” he greets her with a bob of his head, continuing down his narrow trail that leads him past the tree she shelters under. He stops beside it, close enough for conversation but not too close for comfort. “I’m Ivar. What brings you to the Riverlands?” minimal grullo tobiano king of loess |