A pale stallion stood in the middle of the woods. Shifted his weight, looked around, sniffed. Sniffed again, shifted his weight, looked around. A "Hmmm," pressed through his nostrils, groaned like a branch in the wind on one of these old trees. He turned around, stood still, then eased into motion, stepping over winding roots and ducking under low branches; these were ones he'd seen before (and - though he would never admit it - ones he had both tripped over and bumped his head on at least once, each). Two cattle-tails swished behind him as he walked, in a circle, purposely, his fair head in the air, sniffing for something familiar. He sighed. "Everything's familiar at this point." He didn't even bother to complete his circle, instead deviating and heading further into the trees. He didn't know it was further, rather than the direction he wanted to go in, where the trees grew sparse and finally tapered out to the plains. Toro had a nagging feeling that he wasn't supposed to be here, but he didn't know enough to know why. So he kept walking.
In front of a very large, very gnarly tree, Toro paused. He squinted up at the canopy of leaves, the ancient oak was a shelter in its own right. He wandered if any rain could reach the ground on which he stood. "You look familiar." Maybe I'm onto something. There was another old tree on the other end of the woods, wider, and older, and it was most certainly not this one. The stallion continued on in this direction, further in Dusk territory, little did he know. His ears pricked at every cracking branch and rustling leaf; it was one thing to be lost, another to be oblivious. He didn't like it here, anyway; the trees reminded him far too much of the woods his sire would wander into, the woods in which he would die. Besides that, it was dark, and the trunks congested, and the leaves were good hiding places for basically everything... There were plenty of reasons not to like the woods. It wasn't just about dad. How could it be? It'd been years. Two years, three seasons, give him a moment and he'll know the days. He stopped in front of a bush, full of autumn berries, untouched - poisonous. He moved on. His tails swished; he was beyond impatience. He was just tired, now, and it would be nice if there was someone around here that could give him directions. He was starting to get the feeling that the old tree back there was not the old tree he thought it was.
@Myfanwy
