The simple red colt followed his herd, head low, eyes searching for purchase in the daylight. His blindness left him helpless in this time of fear, and the tiny bird that clung to his mane trembled, feeding off of his emotion. He had named the little guy Edison, hoping he would grow into a large, majestic, intelligent warrior of a bird. The name was strong, and he hoped it to fuel the companion as well as himself. Now, however, both were consumed with fear, confused at why the herd was fleeing and unknown to where they were travelling. Roux's heart thrashed rapidly against his growing, deepening chest, already alight with rippling muscle of youth. The organ, seeming to pump blood as well as desire through his extremities, yearned for the comfort of his twin, for the protection of the crimson and obsidian brother. It was a rare thing for Roux to want the complete guidance of his able brother, on such a normal occasion the silver eyed colt would wish for the two to stang aligned, matched, partners. This day, however, Roux wished for Sacre to stand in the lead and take his hoof.

The quest was far and it took them a great distance from their snowy mountains, causing Roux's serenity to diminish further with each step of his uncleft hooves. They reached the caves finally, and Roux found a new solace. Picture once again filled his eyes, the greyscale vision he desperately clung to in the night was with him at all times of day, only dimmed by the few streams of light that broke from the ceiling of the caverns. The boy and his bird no longer trembled, no longer walked with ears pinned flat against nape and tail tucked tight against hind legs. Instead, the pair moved with the confidence of any yearling, nostrils flaring as Roux took in the scents of the caves. They were much different than the ones in the Basin, deeper and filled with more wonder. Roux felt powerful here with his sight intact. He would be safe.

He did not stray far from his herdmates, but spent most of his time moving through the dark caves in search of his twin. Worry writhed inside him, grasping his lungs and his soul to drain the life from him. Sacre was in danger, he knew that much, for the stained boy was not with the herd. "Sacre," He whispered, peering his large head around a horner. He tilted his thick, spiraled horn towards the new room, warning any danger that he was a force to be reckoned with. The boyish, stupid bravery grew in his chest as he searched for his brother. Finding no reply to his whisper, Roux flicked his tail and walked into the room. Familiar voices filled his ears, though slightly muffled by the sound of crashing water in the distance. He knew the voices well. One was his Lord, Deimos. The other was his wayward father, d'Artagnan.

The boy picked up into a trot then, rousing his companion from his sleep. You will meet my father today, He thought to the bird, whose feathers were growing in nice and red with each growing day. The bird made a disgruntled chirp from his mane-nest and closed his baby golden eyes. As Roux closed the distance between the two stallions and himself they became brighter images, parts of them disappearing as light flecked over their hides. "Father," Roux breathed, exasperated and slightly joyous in the same instant. The colt, painted in his father's colors, stopped short of the two, standing between them yet several yards back. "Deimos." Roux said, bowing his crowned head in respect of the deadly stallion. Blinking silver eyes, Roux took a step towards his father, searching his body. The bag was foreign, but Aramis beneath him was so familiar. A boyish grin threatened to pull at the corner's of Roux's mouth as he finally closed the gap between him and his father. "Where is mother? Sacre?" The yearling asked, lipping his father's side in such a way to draw comfort from the large stallion.