Though Beqanna is wholly strange to him, he finds himself craving a change of scenery. Already at the base of the mountain, he looks across the river to the wispy willow branches stretching toward the gently rollicking surface. Beyond them, the landscape seems quite tempting with its verdant greenery. Might as well see what awaits, so he begins crossing the water.
He takes his time, relishing the cool touch that spreads across his skin. The sparkling droplets send a tantalizing urge racing along his spine and down his hindlegs, begging him to pause to unfurl the tentacles that hide within his core. But he is not quite interested in releasing his aquatic side just yet.
So he moves along into the tall grasses that cover the meadow. He knows that he should make an effort to speak to new people, but he’s not sure where to start. Quite frankly, the idea intimidates him on a deeper level. Most people have little patience for the only topics he knows well: death and loss.
He breathes out a quiet but heavy sigh of frustration just as fate takes the opportunity to create an opening for him to develop his social skills. The roan mare descends a fair distance from where he stands, and he watches as she settles into their surroundings. Trepidation rises as quickly as she lands, but clearly something intended for their paths to cross. He swallows the lump in his throat and moves to close the gap between them, though he still worries that it might be rude to interrupt her meal.
“Hi there..”
