[AW] breaking the yearlings,

[Howl]

snow stretches across the plains, thick as a blanket and surely just as comfortable. despite everything it remains a clear, solid shade of white - flecked only with dirt here and there, disrupted only by tracks. most seemed to be equine - trailing this way and that, stale scents lingering in their wake. howl pays little attention to these (stale scents are old, easy to ignore, not dangerous), and instead soliders forward. these lands - as far as he knew - belonged to no court, no living soul. it was a neutral land, free from claims and ownership - just the same as him. it is... a strange concept, to feel kinship to a patch of ground, and so howl snorts, shoving those thoughts away. instead, he continues on - right up until he stops. ahead, across the plains, stand a herd of - things. horses? no. they are too broad, too square - their builds are different, alien in a way he's never seen. there's a good distance between howl and the buffalo and he stills where he stands, as if frozen by the winter air. they pay him no mind, for they're used to the sight of a lone stallion, yet howl stays where he is. lowers his head just a bit, squares his shoulders as muscles tense, maimed gaze never once straying from them. he does not know what they are. he does not care - but he certainly doesn't trust them, either. ""