A cool breeze flowed along the flat, treeless land. A small, golden mare stumbled along the ground, her hooves dragging on the soft soil with fatigue. Her mane and tail were tangled with grasses, leaves and twigs, all were souvenirs of her recent travel. But now, her time had come. She needed to settle in this foreign land. A horse without a herd does not survive long. This thought has slowly been infecting her mind over the past weeks, untill it had become all she thought about, Where would she live?, Who would she live with?, Would she actually find a herd?, What would happen if she never did? Starvation? Capture by humans? Slaughtered by wild, ferocious beasts? She shuddered violently at the thought.

A small rocky outcrop stuck out of the empty land. Zarabelle scrambled onto it, her small hooves slipping on the smooth, hard surface. Once balanced on top, she gazed out into the distance, scanning the horizon for any signs of life. When none was spotted, she sent out a single, high pitched whinny. It echoed with pain and loneliness, with desperation for a friend. Is anybody out there?

Flint heard a whinny pierce across the winds. His ears shot up and he raised his head. He tipped his maw up to the sky and let out one. Yes.. I am here. He didn't run over to try to find the source, instead he waited for her to reply back.