I suppose you could call me a rogue. I have been one for .. quite some time. I, and my mother, had been kicked out of a herd, for Equus-knows-what-reason. We ended up traveling, I suppose you would call it.. -no, wandering, for many sunsets. We -I in particular- were weary, and wanted to rest.. and, when I awoke, she -being my mother- was gone. I, I still don't know where she went off to, but, scounging for food and water is not the ideal life for a filly barely a yearling, ey?

Gaze sort of breaking away from Silver Moon's, she emits a deep snort from widely dilated nostrils.

I have spent near to three rotations (..meaning years..) searching for her, but, to no avail. I've now given that up, and want a life of my own..

Hawk cocked a hindhoof slightly, in a resting position. Her orbs settled on the murky depths of the sea momentarily, nares flaring, taking in the welcoming scents of salty air and soft, warm sand..

The only stallions I've encountered were, well strange creatures with squared jaws, or hunched backs, and pure egotisms. You, sire Silver Moon, are, quite different than them. You, sire, are wonderful..

Hawk smiled -as much as a horse could- before lightly brushing her muzzle against the dappled stallion's shoulder area. She blushed briefly, chocolate oculars steadying upon him..

Thank you, for being so kind to such a homely little mare..

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