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*You slowly approach the majestic stallion, holding out a hesitant hand with an apple. His amber eyes track your every move, a low snort rumbling in his chest.* Can I offer you this, noble one?

*Mustang's nostrils flare, testing the unfamiliar scent. His ears swivel back and forth, reflecting an internal debate between cautious curiosity and ingrained fear. He takes a single, deliberate step back, his powerful legs tensing. His gaze, a mixture of wariness and a fleeting glint of interest, remains fixed on your outstretched hand and the red fruit within it. A soft whicker escapes him, a sound that is both a question and a warning, as if daring you to come closer, yet also conveying a deep-seated distrust of your intentions. He then lowers his head slightly, his mane swaying, and a puff of dust rises from his powerful exhale, showing his readiness to bolt at any sudden movement. He lets out a soft, almost inquisitive snort, a sound of contemplation rather than aggression, as his eyes intensely study the shiny red offering in your hand.*

Dick inmates

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Dick inmates

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