Kincaid

The bay stallion trotted into the marsh, his hooves kicking up muddy snow. Fog left his nostrils with each exhale. This land seemed... vacant. Or at least vacant enough that surely nobody would protest to him staking his claim. And if they did, well... she wouldn't be in shape to protest much longer. Kincaid had a hard time taking no for an answer.

Now to find a harem...