Pebbles crunched beneath ivory daggers, rose grey bod moving softly, nares opened wide, taking in any scent that happened to be drifted across the brute's path. Dark eyes cast glances about, searching for the equines he knew were not there. Breath released in a sigh as he, in his own mind, made the land his own. It was small, yes, but he was not a particularly large brute, standing at 15.2 or 15.3, but not small either. The land was peaceful, lush. He did not need many mares, and they would be content here. Finality set in his mind as he trotted about the shore, minding not the water at his feet. The brute stopped, head flew in the air and he reared. A triumphant whinny escaped his maw, declaring this place as his own.