91st of Fall, 510AV
It had been a surprisingly busy last few days of Autumn, perhaps the most enjoyable he could remember. However, it had left tragic little time for his good friend Topher. As he walked to the stables housing Emerald clan striders, dressed as always in his sturdy green cloth and brown leather, he hoped that the horse would not be angry with him. Topher had a bit of a temper.
There was a small bit of land cleared for pasture, somehow untouched by a tent or pavilion, directly adjacent from the stable itself. Striders were let free to roam here, no gates or fences held them in. The Drykas and the Cyphrus Strider were brothers and sisters, and treated accordingly in everything. Which is why it pained him so greatly to have been neglecting his horse-brother for the last few days.
Topher was not a large strider, only about 14 hands, and he was not imposing. His lines were good for sustained speed over long distance, but at a simple race he would be simply unremarkable. The coloring of his mane was a mutlicolored light and dark that swirled together beautifully. The two back legs were solid black to the hock, and the black reached past the elbow on his front legs. The main coloring of his body was buckskin with a black dorsal stripe.
Jarhal came to the edge of the pasture and merely stood watching for a few moments, smiling perhaps the brightest he had in weeks. His usually darting and observant hawkish eyes seemed almost warm, unconcerned with being suspiciously watchful for once. Reaching under his cloak, he withdrew a carrot and waved it to catch the horse's eye.
The strider noticed immediately, and came over at an eager trot. Coming close, Topher began happily prancing and nosing the hunter. He never took his eyes off the carrot, though. Jarhal had found few things the horse loved more than a fresh carrot.