A tough, icy exterior, with a small and warm heart.

Yangar is a horse with many layers, much like an onion. At first, you encounter the thick outer skin — the wall he has built to protect himself. His piercing blue eyes stare back at you, cold and unreadable, revealing nothing of what lies beneath.

But once you make your way through that tough outer layer, and the wall begins to come down stone by stone, you discover the softness hidden within those beautiful eyes, as their icy blue seems to soften into gentle grey. Like ice melting in the warmth of the sun, Yangar’s heart slowly begins to melt for the person who treats him with fairness and respect.

His body is like a cathedral: solid, powerful and muscular, built upon an unshakable foundation. He knows his own strength, and when he feels unsafe, he may sometimes use it to defend himself. He has a past...

He is trying to let go of the stones he carries from that past. He does so hesitantly, yet with growing trust. It is through difficult situations that he learns whether he can truly rely on you: how you respond, whether you are fair, whether you are able to take responsibility for your own actions, and whether you are willing to trust him in return.

That is where his anchor lies: mutual trust.

Every day, he asks for it again. Every day, he needs to see it confirmed. And with every confirmation, another stone falls from the wall he once built around himself.