Washed away

[wildbrumby]

He was wadding through the ice cold sea along the norther coast of Terra De Rocas. Exploring the land now it looked so different in white. He was unfazed by the raging sea. Never thinking it could wash him out again.

He had come to this island that way. Washed from the shore and with alot of swimming and floating, he had somehow landed here. Washed upon the life giving beaches of Isola. Now, in the cold clutches of winter, Whitefoot was taken from the island. His time here was over.

With a sudden gush of dark liquid, the sea engulfed the dun stallion, wrapping it in its cold current, the sea pulled him away. Carrying him away from the island. Away from his herd. Away from Amourette.

[sibber-chow]

The ebony galloped in with labored breaths, not halting until she was hock-high in the icy waters. The waves were thrashed against her violently, and as she turned her head to scan the terra, hoof prints in the snow made it all add up. Trekking a little deeper into cold waters, the mare bellowed out for her Beta stag. There was no reply, there was never a reply. For a quarter of an hour, the essa screamed out to the waters, attempting to hear any retort from Whitefoot. Her legs were now engulfed in the waters, waves crashing against the entirety of her bodice, and she decided it was best to retreat.

As she stepped into the light layers of snow, her dark muzzle reached towards the ground. Nostrils flaring, she could barely catch his scent. He had been here, and the waters had taken him away. But, it had been a good hour since his hooves breached the ground for the last time. Fiana knew it was too late to do anything for the dun stag. He was lost to the sea now, and she could only pray that he landed safely upon new territories.

Now, it had been about fifty-five minutes since she last left her little filly with its father and a new recruit. After her departure, she had sent word with Malli that a herd meeting would come to be in about an hour. That gave the mare about fifteen minutes to get to Lider de Montana – she would have to rush.

Turning to the sea once more, the mare reared, her crown tossing in the air. She screamed out a few loud bellows damning the waters for what they had done to such a noble stag. And then, the mare turned back, galloping forward once more… it was due time to hold another herd meeting.