Rain trickled from leaves above, the droplets pitter-pattering on the ground beneath on this dreary afternoon. Dark eyes scanned the forest and nostrils flared as a puff of air left them. How dreary, he thought, his tail sagging behind him. The remnants of the past season's snow lingered between the trees, only patches of brown and black emerging; nothing could be seen but the decay of autumn's leavings and the stones that poked up through the ground. This was becoming a late spring, it would seem. The rain that had fallen for several days now began as tiny balls of ice, coating the white blanket in a sharp crust that hurt his paws as he walked. It was warmer now, but not by much.
Prince Sebastian watched the small creature who resided with him as it pawed through the snow for food. The small, supple budding leaves that were usually poking out of low-hanging branches by now were nowhere to be seen. Acorns and other nuts would have to do, even if they were past their prime. The stallion's stomach gurgled and he sighed. He, too, preferred fresher food, but the winter had been harsh and seemingly unrelenting. At least the rain had removed some of the snow and foraging was a little easier. Reluctantly, he pawed at the ground with his companion, uncovering the soft, opened tree nuts below. They were beginning to sprout, even in the cold. Perhaps the trees knew something that Sebastian didn't. He hoped they did as he plucked an acorn from the ground, his lips touching a bed of wet, musty leaves as he did so. How unpleasant. He grimaced and grumbled to himself as he foraged and chewed, wishing he didn't hate interacting with others so much. Surely someone had to have food stores somewhere. Maybe he could charm his way into them... The self-proclaimed prince quickly shook the thought from his mind. He was no peasant, and would not go around begging for food. But then again, he was a prince...
Blood-red eyes examined their surroundings once more. The forest here was dense and quiet save for the sound of rain. There were no songbirds, no squirrels, no others to be seen or heard. It was practically paradise, free of bothersome company. He was not lonely, nor sad. There were no paths to where he had set up his little home. That's exactly the way he liked it, usually. But the food. Ugh. Maybe it was time to branch out, to learn a new trade. Growing up he remembered gatherers and gardeners, but he never wanted to learn. That was beneath him. Perhaps he could pay that silly little mare a visit; she was always getting into trouble, and maybe she even had a snack or two to share.