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Description
Geralt surveyed the herd. His herd. The thought was totally alien to him. He barely felt older than a wobbly kneed colt when he thought of ruling his own herd.

He took a deep breath.

His father had left him in charge for a reason. Faramir trusted him to lead well and justly. The former lead stallion had mysteriously decided to step down from his position late one night, saying there were things he must attend to. He’d left the herd confused and entrusted it’s care to his son, Geralt.

Geralt took another deep breath.

”Ah, there you are!” came Dayne’s usual sing-song voice.

Lyca lifted her head from where she lay at Geralt’s hooves and curled her lip. She held the herd’s Lieutenant in great disdain, it was well known. But the sooty stallion hardly seemed to notice or care.

Geralt turned and attempted a reassuring smile. By the look on Dayne’s face, he knew it looked more like a sickly grimace.

”Better keep practicing that for the mares’ sakes.” Dayne laughed.

Geralt hummed his agreement and went back to looking over the mares down below. Several of them, including Fae, Windfola, and Varra stood in a cluster as they grazed together. All three were heavily pregnant and took comfort in eachother’s shared discomfort. Belize and Muse, two new foals, pranced happily around their mothers’ hooves, squealing loud enough to he heard up on the ridge. The rest of the mares were scattered around and grazing in contentment.

All was well...for now.

With a sigh, Geralt began to descend the ridge, Lyca right on his heels. Dayne followed as well, singing some songs he's undoubtedly made up under his breath. Upon entering the thick of the herd, Geralt was immediately made uncomfortable by the mares nodding or gently bowing to him as he passed. It made his skin itch and crawl to be shown this kind of reverence he had always thought reserved for his father.

Geralt’s ears perked up at the sight of his mother, Aisling, approaching. Even growing up, Geralt knew the other mares gave his mother a fairly wide berth. Other foals in the herd weren’t always quick to invite him to play their games and he sometimes caught others throwing him wary glances. As a colt, he’d thought maybe the herds’ strange treatment of his mother were because of her unusual features. But he’d heard whispers that his mother was “crazy” and “dangerous”. He’d shrugged these off and completely dismissed them. He loved his mother. She raised him well and treated him with love and kindness. Geralt was one of the few horses in the herd to know that Aisling was completely deaf. She’d kept it a secret because of his perfected ability to read lips and body language. Geralt wasn’t sure why she didn’t trust this information with her herd mates, but he’d never questioned her about it.

”Good morning, my son.” Aisling said by way of greeting, nuzzling against Geralt’s neck.

”Good morning, mother.” Geralt replied with a small smile. ”How has the day treated you so far?”

”Very well. It seems spring has finally sprung.”

Geralt nodded and felt a small weight lifted from his shoulders. He hoped the other mares felt the same about the good day and fair weather.

Maybe things would be ok without his father.

Description
Geralt surveyed the herd. His herd. The thought was totally alien to him. He barely felt older than a wobbly kneed colt when he thought of ruling his own herd.

He took a deep breath.

His father had left him in charge for a reason. Faramir trusted him to lead well and justly. The former lead stallion had mysteriously decided to step down from his position late one night, saying there were things he must attend to. He’d left the herd confused and entrusted it’s care to his son, Geralt.

Geralt took another deep breath.

”Ah, there you are!” came Dayne’s usual sing-song voice.

Lyca lifted her head from where she lay at Geralt’s hooves and curled her lip. She held the herd’s Lieutenant in great disdain, it was well known. But the sooty stallion hardly seemed to notice or care.

Geralt turned and attempted a reassuring smile. By the look on Dayne’s face, he knew it looked more like a sickly grimace.

”Better keep practicing that for the mares’ sakes.” Dayne laughed.

Geralt hummed his agreement and went back to looking over the mares down below. Several of them, including Fae, Windfola, and Varra stood in a cluster as they grazed together. All three were heavily pregnant and took comfort in eachother’s shared discomfort. Belize and Muse, two new foals, pranced happily around their mothers’ hooves, squealing loud enough to he heard up on the ridge. The rest of the mares were scattered around and grazing in contentment.

All was well...for now.

With a sigh, Geralt began to descend the ridge, Lyca right on his heels. Dayne followed as well, singing some songs he's undoubtedly made up under his breath. Upon entering the thick of the herd, Geralt was immediately made uncomfortable by the mares nodding or gently bowing to him as he passed. It made his skin itch and crawl to be shown this kind of reverence he had always thought reserved for his father.

Geralt’s ears perked up at the sight of his mother, Aisling, approaching. Even growing up, Geralt knew the other mares gave his mother a fairly wide berth. Other foals in the herd weren’t always quick to invite him to play their games and he sometimes caught others throwing him wary glances. As a colt, he’d thought maybe the herds’ strange treatment of his mother were because of her unusual features. But he’d heard whispers that his mother was “crazy” and “dangerous”. He’d shrugged these off and completely dismissed them. He loved his mother. She raised him well and treated him with love and kindness. Geralt was one of the few horses in the herd to know that Aisling was completely deaf. She’d kept it a secret because of his perfected ability to read lips and body language. Geralt wasn’t sure why she didn’t trust this information with her herd mates, but he’d never questioned her about it.

”Good morning, my son.” Aisling said by way of greeting, nuzzling against Geralt’s neck.

”Good morning, mother.” Geralt replied with a small smile. ”How has the day treated you so far?”

”Very well. It seems spring has finally sprung.”

Geralt nodded and felt a small weight lifted from his shoulders. He hoped the other mares felt the same about the good day and fair weather.

Maybe things would be ok without his father.