Everyone has a place but the young prince. Oh he knows he is loved as the youngest and the last (for now) by mothers and siblings both, but he lacks the bonds that are easily made by others. Both Will and Rhae already have friends and perhaps, young lovers and where does that leave him? By himself. A lot.
So he strays.
He discovers.
He explores and roams and only comes home to rest for the night. No one asks him what he does or where he goes and he does not volunteer this information. He doesn’t tell them that he swims a lot. To lake bottoms and river bends, because the world’s there are just as fascinating as the one he was born into. That tides and fish are more frowns to him than any horse.
So the pale painted prince does what he does best when the sun crests the horizon. He leaves at first light from the grotto and neat of sibling legs and necks. Roads lesser traveled beckon to him until they peter out into streams that he trails the lengths of until he finds the parent source. Which leads him to a corner of the meadow that horses tend to avoid, or so he assumes because no one seems to be occupying it.
There is a curious scent there that seems to be of a similar vein to his mother’s companion and his uncle when not in his original form. Musky, like a cat - big cat - the kind that sets off warning bells inside the mind but Sviko doesn’t move besides a nervous shuffle of his legs in the lengthy grass that makes it rustle. Oops, it gives him away as does the throat-clearing cough and weak coltish hello that follows after it.
@[Daedra] ♥️