Calling –Mares-

The cremello Arabian moved with powerful yet graceful strides as he made his way down the small hillside, into the Gardens. He slowed as he entered, ears pricked and nostrils flared. Celtic had arrived at last; he’s long trip was nearly over. He looked about the gardens, scents of other horses floated on the air. Yet he didn’t see any, maybe sensed his coming, and got scared and hid? Maybe they need a little encouragement to come out? Celtic stopped in a small clearing, outlined in flowers and filled with sunlight. He glanced around, snorted loudly then reared up. With hooves pawing the air he let out a neigh…

Celtic stood watching as four mares replied to his call and came forward. He nickered gentle to each one; his dark blue eyes studying them. "Greetings. I am Celtic. You four are?"

Celtic sensing a nearby presence looked away; his eyes searching. He raised his pale muzzle slightly, sniffed then gave a low grumble. A new horse had come, another mare. The Arab glanced about the gardens; there she was, near a weeping willow tree. He stomped a hoof, snorted and gave his dished head a small toss then slowly stridden towards the beauty. Celtic stopped short, ears pricked up. “I am Celtic, daughter of the wind. What is your calling?”

Celtic hearing her, flicked his ears back. He slowly turned and looked at her, a lock of his mane fell across one side of his face.

Celtic spun around, facing the white mare that had reared up, leaped forward giving her a sharp nip on the shoulder. He stood tense and ready for action; his tail swishing and his neck arched with ears laid flat. No mare was going to make him hurry. This was his choice to make and he’s alone; he’ll take as long as he wanted. He turned slowly looking at each mare (except Havoc, the Arab; she hadn’t done anything wrong…yet) with a stern look. “Listen to me, don’t get too impatient now. You’re all lovely mares, each with your own unique skills and strengths, which will make you a fine mate even a lead mare. However, only I chose who will stand beside me…do you think that you are the one for me?” His question hung in the air, waiting to be answered. If any said yes; they’ll be one step closer to a glorious future but if they didn’t…

Celtic turned to the newcomer; he slowly relaxed. It was another mare, would she be the first to answer his question? "I am Celtic."

“Very well then,” Celtic snorted; he tossed his head up, pleased. “Those who have spoken follow me to the Redwood and there one of you will be chosen…” Without another a word; he suddenly reared, whinnied and turned, galloping out of the gardens.