Thick muscle thatches across tall bones with a hide woven in scars and fear. The tall man, black as your mother's silent sin, finds this new world startlingly quiet. A single ear twitches in the nest of his matted hair but it is met with pristine bird song and the sot babble of brook water. A single flat hoof is drawn up and under as he hesitates a moment before disrupting the water flow of the small creek with his foot.
Lavender-grey eyes narrow slightly, scenting the air before realizing it was all for naught. Beqanna is quiet. The blood in his veins seems to itch beneath his skin. He draws a breathe to extend the chest plate of his body wide before exhaling slowly. The autumn sun is filtered through the tree tops above to dapple his rounded haunches. Gaze slowly covers the edge of the land and Murc inds himself perfectly...bored. The length of his tail, gnarled by burrs, is licked against one side then the other. The hazy purple of his gaze is half lidded as he crosses the small stream to follow a deer path through the dry autumn kindling.
The sky melts into the afternoon gold of a storm-less evening. The saw of a crow shocks the placid aura of the forest and draws the dark man's attention briefly. Nostrils flare, ears are pivoting. There was someone or something else in the forest that the crow did not like. The thick neck of the stallion twists over one heavy shoulder to look in the direction of a peculiar scent that was creeping up behind him as he stood downwind.
MURC
just as i can be so cruel