Post by cheezwizzard on Feb 28, 2012 20:58:53 GMT -5
The small but stocky buckskin sabino, pulled back from the water's edge spluttering. This WAS NOT normal water. He eyed it suspiciously and gave a tiny growl as if he were once again a foal, playing with others his age. Diego wished for the clock to turn back and he would once again be a yearling, playing under his mother's watchful eye. Now he was three. A young adult, old enough to sire foals. He had been petrified when he first thought of the huge first day of spring. In the back of his mind he wist to see the lovely young F l u t t Er and plant his seed in her womb but something told Diego that would never happen. He at best was a seven, while she with her black and white polka dotted coat was a an eleven out of ten. It could never be. She was meant for colts who were princes, not just a lead stallion's child. Diego had only met his father Aconite about three times. In a way it was kinda of depressing but he didn't mind. He was much more independent this way.