Epiales || 1 Year, 4 Months || Stallion || Plains Herd Yearling || M: Clover, Ursa, Feanor (Ind), Cicely (Ind), Oren (Ind)

Epiales couldn’t have been more relieved to watch that fiery stallion trot away from the herd at Cicely’s warning. His stance relaxed as he watched the red coat fade into the distance, finally deeming the situation safe for his sister once more. Though, he must admit that he was rather surprised that she didn’t try and scoot around him to say “hello” to the new guy. Then again, considering the now distant form of their lead mare, he had a good feeling as to why she didn’t – minus the fact that he was leaving in general.

Shaking himself off, the young stallion turns to his sister and stares at her with his seemingly red eyes. They held a glint of playfulness in them, presenting a challenge in hopes of restarting the game they had just been playing. A snort and some pawing followed afterwards, in hopes that she’d get the message.

Hopefully, he thinks, this will get her mind off that stallion.

With a snort, the bay yearling accepts his challenge – allowing the black and white male to gently “boop” her with his nose. Quickly, he turns to take off running (he was glad Clover always gave him a head start. He was not able to outrun her, so this was quite a generous actions), ready for another round of their favorite-

Before him stood a familiar buckskin mare, her head held as high as it usually was. Her face screamed unimpressed and disappointed – a look that he knew the likes of from a mile away. Startled, the dark stallion took a few steps back at, not wanting to be near the honorable mare in question. She began to speak soon after, addressing Clover specifically. Though, it still felt as though he were being scolded as well. Hanging his head, he looks back at the smaller yearling to gauge her reaction.

Clover, what did you do this time?

The reason behind the deputy’s scolding was one that he was not particularly expecting. When had they run by a foal? Let along, nearly over one. He didn’t see any doing their session, so what was she talking about? Then again, considering the foal in question was Oren, he wasn’t shocked that he had missed him. That foal was known for being rather small. Thus, spotting him amongst the grass proved to be quite a challenge at times.

However, what really peaked his attention was the mare’s final command. No playing? He gets that the herd would be on edge after that bachelor showed up, but this? He ears pin back at the thought. Afterall, if Clover wasn’t going to be playing, then he wasn’t either. In all honesty, he was fine with that. He could use some peace and quiet around his sister for once.

“But Mom, that’s not fair! Ya know how hard Oren is ta see in this grass. Why should I be punished for him being left alone?”

The hairs on his back stand up at Clover’s argument. Oh boy, this isn’t good.

Thinking quickly, he slaps his sister in the face with his tail and speaks for her, “I’m sure she didn’t mean that Ma’am,” oh, how he hated the polite tone his voice carried, “You’re right. We should have been more careful. Well, we’ll be grazing elsewhere if you need us. Bye!”
Epiales began to push his sister away from her mother and towards the other side of the herd before any more scolding could happen. Clover, at first, was fighting against the movement, but she eventually began to sulk and follow alongside him. Glancing over his shoulder every once in a while, he tried to keep track of the deputy’s distance from them.

Please don’t be following us. Please don’t be following us. Please don’t be following us.

Tipper tossed his head, bored of standing still and being supervised. He was lonely now that his mother had left, and didn't like being surrounded by yearlings. He barely waited a moment before turning to his full sister with a sly look.

"I'm leaving. I'm going down to the river, or something."

He quickly turned away, kicking up his heels, and trotted towards the river, hoping to not be followed. He wasn't sure where anyone was, he saw most of the herd just moseying around. Tipper passed a couple mares who he didn't recognize, but that was mostly because he was very ditzy, and often didn't recognize his own full siblings or mother.

He made his way to the other side of the herd, spotting Epiales, a yearling, who he looked up to. He darted towards the male, nipping at his flanks playfully, though he knew he'd be told off or swatted away.

"Epiales!" He said cheerily. "I'm going down to the river, will you come with me? Or are you busy? Or do you not like me?"

He didn't wait for an answer between any of his questions, and only waited a second after, his head cocked to the side. Then he was gone in a flash, making his way down to the riverbank, splashing down into the cool water, and he finally stopped for a second, looking around.

Oren || 1 Month || Colt || Plains Herd Foal || M: Tipper, Kokoro, Epiales (Ind), Aurelia

Oren stood there for a couple of seconds, awaiting some sort of answer from the foal in front of him. However, it seemed as though his nicker – let alone himself – had gone unnoticed as the other foal was quick to declare his departure. The palomino foal stared after Tipper as he scampered off without a word to anyone but his sister, trotting over to his destination as well as that scary and nightmarish yearling from earlier today.

The colt’s ears slowly pin backwards as he watches the only somewhat-trustworthy horse nearby meander off to areas that he dared not stray. His steps backtrack towards the yearling, stopping mere inches from her chest. Yeah, there was no way he was ever going to follow him. He would be too afraid to go that far from his mother and the herd (even if he was far from her now). Heck, he was frightened at the very thought of going anywhere at this point in time. Besides, possibly, to his mother. But he’s not sure that he’d want to risk going out and finding-

A shout from his aforementioned mother made the poor foal jump out of skin – bumping his rump into Kokoro’s chest in surprise. Normally, the touch of a stranger would send him into a full-blown panic. This time, however, he was much more focused on his mother’s angry and frantic tone to realize what was going on. Not like he had much time to react, though, as his mother was quick to shove him (rather harshly) back towards the herd. He nearly fell a few times on their way back – his mothers insistent shoving being too much for him to keep up with.

Tears begin to stream down Oren’s face, upset over the outburst and pain that was starting form from where his mother was pushing him. “I’m sorry, Mama! I-I’m sorry! I just ran to the nearest safe place,” a particularly harsh shove had him fall forward slightly, almost landing square on his head if not for the front legs catching himself. A sob wracked his small form as he just laid there. He couldn’t move, his body shaking from fear and confusion. What had he done wrong? He was just looking for safety and (maybe) a friend. In all honesty, he was likely being nothing more than a cry baby right now. But a “nudge” for an adult was an all out shove for him – especially with how little he weighed. He just couldn’t keep up.

“I’m sorry.”

Clover || 1 Year, 3 Months || Mare || Plains Herd Yearling || M: Epiales, Ursa (Ind), Tipper

Clover couldn’t believe it. Her? Denied the right to play? Simply because a mare neglected to keep an eye on her own foal. That wasn’t fair in the slightest! She blows harshly on the grass below her mouth, which she did nothing but glare at as though it had offended her in some way. Her ears were pinned back in frustration as well, as she kept grumbling her annoyance of the situation to herself.

While she was slightly peckish (and should likely be eating), the bay yearling didn’t have much of an urge to actually eat with her mind being so preoccupied with her mother’s command. A stupid command at that, her tail swishes harshly back and forth at her growing agitation. Her glare grows sharper at the thought, narrowing in on a particular flower hidden amongst the taller blades of grass. In her incessant starting, she started to picture the plant as her mother and began to imagine all the ways she could have argued back – thinking of all the possible responses her mother could throw back at her and exactly how she could have thrown her own retort back.

A disgruntled snort followed by a string of grumbling curses and stomping hooves finally broke her out of her mind – ending the “staring contest” she was having with the (she swore that the flower had not been drooping when it first caught her gaze). Moving her head slightly to the side in its downward position, she glances to the yearling behind her with slight interest. The first thing she noticed was his pinned ears and raised head. She watched on as his black and white form angles itself so his rear was facing a certain direction, legs tightened and ready to fly backwards. Even more curious by his agitation, she lifts her head – looking over her shoulder for the source of his current reaction.

Ah, of course, she nearly giggles at the scene before her. Tipper, the lead mare’s own foal, was prancing around her elder brother. Knowing how this foal typically interacted with the borderline-violet yearling she called her closest sibling, she held no doubt in her mind that he took it upon himself to nip at him. While the action itself was not particularly wise to conduct (considering how aggressive Epiales could become), it never failed to provide some form of amusement to the smaller yearling. Though, she knew that brooding stallion would never bring harm to the colt – even if he was certainly pondering it.

Still, I should probably diffuse the situation – no matter how amusing it is.

Slowly, she makes her way over to the pair. tail swinging around somewhat calmly as she did. The foal had started talking Epiales’ ear off the minute she arrived beside the two – more than she ever could. She, at first, was only slightly interested in his words (afterall, he had only just greeted the nightmarish male she tuned in). But, when the foal began asking his questions – specifically when the mention of going down to the river came up – her ears perked up.

Ignoring all the other questions, she speaks before her brother can say a word, “Going ta the river, ya say? Well, we’ll-”

The dark-pelted foal sprinted off before she could even finish, sprinting down to the river’s edge without pause. A laugh erupts from the mare’s throat at the colt’s energy and enthusiasm. She follows after Tipper at a trot, doing her best to keep up with the much smaller equine.

“Come on, Epiales,” she calls, “it’ll be fun!”

Besides, someone’s gotta look after Tipper. May as well be lil’ ol’ me.

Epiales || 1 Year, 4 Months || Stallion || Plains Herd Yearling || M: Clover, Tipper

I cannot believe I’m doing this, a harsh rush of air leaves the large male’s nostrils as he slowly trods after his younger siblings. His head hung lower than normal in agitation, swinging to and fro. The “bang” portion of his mane swung from side to side in a downwards position due to this, with the hairs taking residence over or near his right eye – depending on where in its motion it was. His “red” eyes swapped constantly between boring holes into the ground beneath his hooves and burning the fur attached to his sister’s back. Not that she noticed in her excitement to defy her mother. His long tail swings back and forth in irritation, cursing that little brat of a foal for giving his sister the bright idea of “escorting” him to the river’s edge.

Of course, Clover was only using this as an excuse for an adventure. Albeit, a small one. Though, if he was being honest, this was more of a detour than anything else for the two yearlings. They have traveled much further than this when exploring. But, he knew better than to think that the possibility of fun and adventure were the only reasons she was following after the foal. Sure, this was her excuse for this current journey, but it was well known that she had a soft spot for… most foals – refusing to take them along on any of her “proper” adventures in fear that they would get hurt. She was likely only allowing Tipper to “come along” due to how close the herd would be. Or, it could be because she knew that nothing could sway him from his mission of reaching the river. Then again, he didn’t really care about the rhyme or reason behind this. He was too focused on his own annoyance to do so.

Can’t a growing stallion, such as myself, get just one day of peace and relaxation?

By now, both of the equines ahead of him had made it to the river’s edge – the foal hopping around in the shallows with the bay mare occasionally attempting to splash the much smaller being whenever he got close. Suddenly, Tipper stopped and begins to look around. Not liking this sudden change (despite not noticing any disturbances to the immediate area), Epiales picks up his pace. He tread into the water as quickly as possible, putting himself between the lead mare’s son and the deeper areas of the river.

“Stick to the shallows, brat,” his voice left no room for argument, “and don’t run off. I’ll have your hide if you get us into any more trouble than we already are.”