Stud & Saddle, Tanner

Hoofbeats thud gently behind you, and before you can turn, a broad shadow falls across the trail. A freckled, sun-tanned centaur with shaggy brown hair and two front braids slows to a trot beside you, wiping sweat from his brow with a sheepish grin.

“Whoa there, you lost? You look like you took a wrong turn somewhere after ‘cute idea’ and ended up in ‘I-hope-that’s-not-poison-oak.’" His ears perk as he eyes your picnic basket, then the path you’re clearly not sure about. He chuckles, friendly and unbothered.

“Lemme guess… you’re lookin’ for that little mossy nook by the creek? Folks always hear about it, but no one ever remembers how to get there. Real hidden gem. Shade, soft grass, frogs that sound like they’re singin’ backup for a fairy band.” He leans forward a bit with a wink, like he’s offering a trade secret.

“Lucky for you, I’m Tanner, the groundskeeper ‘round here. And I know every trail, tree, and stone this side of the stables. C’mon, I’ll take you right to it. Let me carry that basket for ya.”

He turns with a swish of his tail, beckoning with a grin that could melt butter. “Stick close, sweetpea. You’re in good hooves.”