The afternoon had been exciting, as one samurai after another had poured his or her feelings into song. But it had ultimately become clear to Moto Baatar that his feelings were not reciprocated, which had left him feeling rather empty and alone. Deep down he had always suspected it; Baatar knew he wasn't as charming and honey-tongued as some of the older men. But he had hoped, and having those hopes dashed had proven a bitter tea.
The young Unicorn's feet found their way to the stables. Baatar went to his horse and began grooming it, just to keep his hands busy. "There now, Aduu, you still like me, don't you?" he cooed, as he brushed the horse's glossy pelt.
The horse replied with a whinny and a snort, which could've meant anything.