Of course, he seethed. Ivories gritted inside maple maw, as he stepped heavily across the fields. Up and run off without him, could she not bother taking a moment to wake him? Was this too much to ask?!
His sister was a plague 'pon the earth, and he was given her out of pure spite he knew. Had he not been such a heavy sleeper this would not have happened, but would Killdare admit this? No. He wouldn't. His irritation with his sister only further soured his mood. When they had first set off from Calcordia he had the intentions of finding a herd land they could both be welcomed in. Now, forget it. Let her fend for herself, father would not approve, but father wasn't here now was he? Not that Gore needed protection, it was merely a courtesy. They were blood, be it only by the same stags loins or not. He was confident in the fact he could keep just as good an eye on her regardless of his location, he had tracked her this far hadn't he? That was perhaps the brutes one redeeming quality, though he was young he could track easily and expertly. No magic or fancy sorcery involved, though he had spent the better part of the last year honing his skills to what they were today. She was here all right, around somewhere likely finding a new play toy, he grunted.
Killdare loped around the chilled fields, the last of winters bane clinging to the lands with a death grip. It made no matter to the bay, he had received nights out in the cold as part of "training" according to his father. The clip-clop of his hooves cut through the hard terra kicking up pieces of earth in his wake, his feathers hanging limply having lost their battle with the cold. He would find his own way in this land, seek out some herd that would only serve to better him, to provide him with things to benefit himself. Yes, that sounded like a plan indeed, and if he could still keep tabs on his sister, all the better. Of this, father might be proud...