The peg landed in front of the beach house because there were other pegs there. He wasn't the most social creature in the world yet, but he was far more tame than he had been, and it wasn't long before Owen began grazing alongside the pegasii in the front yard.

He was still dragging a lead rope, but though his coat was streaked with sweat, it was obvious that he had calmed down from whatever had spooked him into getting loose and flying away from his own 'herd'.

Doubtless there were other places he could have ended up, but he hadn't seen them, and here was a herd and therefore safety; that was something that he could understand.

He stepped lightly, but even though it didn't take long for the blood to become almost invisible, there were still small traces on his right front hoof, and a few strands of mid-brown hair caught in the shoe he wore.

There was no story behind it, no tale to tell; just a peg who had belonged to a man, loose, with blood and brown hair on a hoof.