12-21-2015, 07:38 PM
He knows this is his home as soon as he sets foot on the blanket of pine needles and bright autumn leaves, as soon as he smells the cool tang of fall twined with the sharp, faint prospect of winter. With the mare at his side it is only clearer that this is where he should be, for the trees provide shelter and secrecy that he desires. He does not want his future herd found, for he wants any future offspring to grow safely, without the threat of other equines who may not understand their isolated lifestyle. His nostrils flare as he takes in the familiar scent of the woods, mixed with the mare's intoxicating one, and he moves deeper into the trees, looking for a perfect place to start his family.
He knows what time of year it is, and he is sure that the mare does as well. His instincts, his body, ache for her, but he knows that sex is a careful song-and-dance between feral creatures, for no words are passed to convey desire - only body language - and if read incorrectly, his pride may be smarting for a while. So he simply nickers to her, every once in a while, bumping his muzzle against her silky neck as they move between the trees. Her companionship is wonderful after too long without it, and he does not want to risk their relationship as of now by acting too harshly just because instinct tells him to.