The smell of salt and sand filled Bucephalus's nostrils and nose as he trotted along the coast. Not that it was a bad thing - while the smell certainly wasn't what he usually smelled in the forests, it wasn't unpleasant. It was quite nice actually.
The water rushed up to meet his hooves as they dug into sand, wet and sloppy, coarse and rough and dry in other parts. His mind quickly diverted from the beauty around him. To his parents. To the plague that had killed so many of his friends. To the same plague that ripped his parents from his life and left them lifeless, cold and grey.
What would they have thought of this? Of the marsh and salt?
Over there. Off in the distance! Another stallion! He cautiously approached the man, his steps quick and shallow. He hoped the man wouldn't attack, but who knew what would happen?
