The colt was in very good condition, that was for sure, and he seemed to have an ambition that might match the mare’s stubbornness. It was nice to watch them run, even though Skoll wasn’t an equine connoisseur like Alder. He’d once thought that he would want to spend his whole life taking care of them like the Marshall did, but while his appreciation for the creatures remained high, there were just too many things to do with his yet-young life to settle down and pour all of his energy into caring for the beasts. He contented himself with Hwin and on being a good handler and rider.
The blonde wolfdog chuckled at the reply as he approached the strong-looking stranger, one who certainly embodied the knight’s build and carriage that the boy dreamed he’d have growing up. He grinned as he followed his gaze, knowing that Hwin would pull out all the stops to make the foal rethink his arrogance. Caught up in watching the horses, he was startled by the other’s outstretched hand and took it quickly for a (would-be) manly shake.
“Skoll Haskel,” the prince was prompted into saying, adopting the other’s simple way of giving his name. He didn’t feel as inclined to add his title anymore, or boast of his heritage; his last name told the story, and hopefully others would find more reason to respect him besides the fact that he was a prince. “So did you just join recently?” he asked, dropping his hand at his side and pushing his unruly mane out of his eyes again. “Do you like the Court so far?” His voice adopted a hopeful edge.
I can go the distance.
I will face the world:
fearless, proud and strong.
I will please the gods;
I can go the distance,
till I find my hero's welcome,
right where I belong.
Image courtesy of Stuck in Customs
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