The days had wandered by so fast and so quickly, Slang could hardly keep up. It was different now, the time of change upon them. It was early summer, the atmosphere comfortably warmed by the golden rays from the sun. Soft winds often whispered through the lands, carassing the barrel of many horses that resided within them. Clouds were rare, yet happened, and fed the vegetation with it's fresh water. Life prospered and herbage flourished. Everywhere was shrouded with a green carpet, the sod soft and moist. The days would become hotter as the Earth titled closer to the sun, but until than it was time to enjoy the desirable weather and bask in the glory of it all, such as the brute. Muscles moved smoothly under his blue marbled peltry, coiling and contracting as he cantered along the terrain. Hoof falls were light and placed confidently, a great thought put into where each one would touch the lithosphere. Mother Earth tried to grasp at his frame, trying to keep his grace all for herself. Branches lurched for his body, long fingers trying to pull him down forever into their keep. But to Slang it was just a normal game played, and swiftly he dodged each obstacle thrown at him by the testy mother. Someday he knew that his bones would decay into her flesh, but until then he would walk upon the Earth freely and do whatever he pleased, but of course abbiding to the rules of the lands. Ears twitched, sounds coming forth to their radar. Each one swiveled atop his head, trying to catch hold of noise, signs that there was other life of horses besides himself. Pupils searched the forest clearing where he found himself, and slowly he stopped his churning limbs to a halt so he could view more easier.

Nostrils flared, a light layer of mist sprawling from their passages out into the open. It was a rather cool morning, everything covered with a light sheet of dew upon the greenery. Grass bent beneath his weight, only to spring foward after it was lifted. A soft wind blew, weaving through the trees and dancing with each strand of mane, cascading from his nape down his neck to reside. Forelock was placed just a little ways from his eyes, giving him the comfort of being able to see what was around him clearly rather than having to shake his face and making a commotion within the lands, possibly attracting a predator of some sort; if there were any in these lands. Limbs ached slightly from his travels, Slang had come from afar in search of new lands. `Twas the same ole story with every stallion. They had left homes in search for new, landing a terrain of there own, and filling it up with mares. But Slang had much bigger plans than that, ambition, determination, and will placed deepy into the walls of his cranium. As well as all those other traits to drive him along, he had the cunning to do what he planned to, and only hoped that whoever he should speak to could see that he had the qualities. His mind was pure, clear of those rather dark and disturbing thoughts and that his heart was pumping love filled blood throughout his body. He was a true light and would stand by that through everything that was thrown at him. Whipcord slashed at his flanks, side to side and causing a slight sting to travel up his spine. Again another breeze lifted the leaves of the vegetation, rippling the grasses of the green sea. Lips parted and he sighed, releasing a breath of carbon into the air for the plants to feast upon.

Coming back from his thoughts he focused on the main reason he was here, in that very forest. Visages shook and bobbed up and down with excitement, forelock and mane sent flapping at his sides and face. A smile crept over his handsome features, lifting the corners of his maw into that comforting face. Limbs began to move again and he ventured further, staying within the borders of the lands. Troting along a neatly woven dirt path, slightly worn from the passing of dear and another animals, he came to a meadow. Flowers dappled the greenery, giving a splash of color to the common painting. Pinks, yellows, purples, reds, and whites varied through the herabe, each blossom open, giving the air a rather tantalizing and fresh scent. A snort and a grunt was put forth and again he began to go about his wild movements, tossing his visage and lifting his limbs from the ground. Moving into a quick gallop, hooves pounded hard on the terrain, leaving slight indents upon the grasses. Bucks were released, pushed out from his hind limbs as he carried on his little rampage through. Circling the meadow and still staying within all borders of the lands he splashed through a little creek, the water spraying upon his blue marbled coat. A laugh erupted from his throat, the joy of a good run washing over him. Quickly he made his way back into the forest, and halted in the same clearing. Front limbs heaved into the air, following was their hooves. Back end sunk into the moist sod slightly, and a full rear was given. Appendages pawed and cut at the atmosphere while his delicate lips parted and a bellow was released through the lands. Coming back down with a rather large thud he was satisfied. These lands were now his, claimed by Slang.