A trespasser.

The scent hit Spirit’s nose before the sun had fully risen, carried on the cool morning breeze. It was faint but undeniable—an unfamiliar horse had entered his territory. His ears flicked, his muscles stiffening as he stood atop the ridge overlooking the valley. This land was sacred, his home, the safe haven he had fought for time and time again. No one passed through here without his knowing.

Spirit let out a low snort, the sound sharp enough to alert the herd grazing below. Rain raised her head, her eyes meeting his in silent understanding. She gave a quick glance to their foal, who was prancing nearby, oblivious to the sudden tension in the air.

Without hesitation, Spirit began his descent. His hooves barely made a sound as he moved, his golden coat blending with the soft light of the rising sun. The scent grew stronger as he neared the edge of the forest, a mix of sweat and wildness. Whoever this was, they weren’t part of his herd.