Hermes snorted and shook out his mane. The previous night had been the coldest yet of the autumn season. He had gotten used to the warm nights of summer, and it was a bit of a shock to the system to be so chilled. His fur was starting to grow in shaggy, but had not yet really acquired its thick winter coat. He'd have to find one of the villagers to give him a blanket, he decided. He'd lived among them most of his life, and was usually able to communicate what he needed with them after some amount of gesturing and pantomime. They had always been nothing but kind to him, at any rate. It was kindness that he greatly appreciated, orphaned or lost as a foal for reasons he could not remember.
He stretched his wings out, first one and then the other. He wanted to fly, but the chill had stiffened them. He didn't want to pull a muscle, so made sure to warm them up before taking to the air. He took special care with his wings, considering them his finest feature. He didn't want any risk of becoming grounded, even temporarily.
