Shir wandered quietly up the mountain pass, enjoying the feel as the sunlight filtering through the tree canopies was slowly beating down on him with greater and greater intensity. As he made his way upwards, fewer and fewer trees grew upon the steeply sloping mountainside, and those that did had twisting trunks to combat the winds and roots systems that were partially exposed by past landslides. He admired the tenacity of the trees that refused to yield to gravity's incessant pull; such strength was admirable, even in an organism that sought only to survive.
His family was full of delicate beauties and singing stallions. Though, each one possessed a strength of their own, an inner tenacity not unlike that of the mountain-dwelling trees. Though he own voice was pure and unfettered by disharmonious tones, he rarely raised it in song with his siblings or parents. He preferred to listen, to watch, and to admire the creations of those who found great pleasure in hearing themselves sing.
Birdsong filtered through the air, the small singers unconcerned with the idle passage of the gentle stallion. He listened to the melodic tunes and the sharp whistles, appreciating the music around him while wondering idly what messages could be passing between the feathered creatures.
He looked to the cloudless sky, an expression of wistful longing on his normally stoic features. What might it feel like, to fly among the birds? Perhaps, then, he would have some clue as to what their songs entailed. Though he might never share their view of the world, he still wondered what it would be like to soar through the skies on occasion.
