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An Amanayr stallion is standing at the base of some tall grey rocks. He stamps a hoof in the grass and flicks his tail, looking around. He's brown and purple, with the strangest set mane you've ever seen; all full of dread-locks and such. Then he turns, his black eyes scanning the ground, and he jumps and bends down, watching as two butterflies flit and flutter, landing on his nose for a moment, then flitting away.
Another Amanary is up on the rocks, lying in the wind and letting it comb through her mane and tail. She also sees the butterflies as they flit past her, and she raises her head to watch them.
There is a amanary down with the purple one now, he's green and brown with stripse and the brightest mane and tail. He shakesh is head, using his horns to chase some leaves from a tree branch and snaps at them as they fall.
The last amanary in the area is brighter than the others, and is stalking around in almost a cat-like fashion. He seems to have no interest in the rocks or the forest; deffiantly not the water. He is just walking along in the sunlight, watching the ground close, and then clicking his red hooves on the stone and flicking his flame-like tail.
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