So the tree can talk, he noted with interest as a low and friendly greeting reached his ears. However, by now Murdock had decided that this truly was a living breathing creature and not some mutated growth born from the fertile soil and some dark magic. He noticed the stranger’s gaze lingering on his wings, perhaps admiring the luminescence of his feathers or simply envying the fact that his were evidently large enough to support him in flight. How terrible it must be to have wings, but not be able to fly. Had he always been this way, or had some curse shrunken his feathered appendages until they were mere decorations upon his shoulders? The latter would be worse, he decided, as if one had never been able to fly, how would they know what they were missing?
The stallion dismissed Murdock’s concerns, providing instead his name in the deep, inviting tones of his voice. It was no surprise that he had neither met nor heard of Thor, as he had not been with the Edge long and had mostly kept to himself during his time here. It was not that he was antisocial, as he was really quite the opposite, but he had felt the need to give himself room to breathe and figure out what to make of this new life. “Pleasure to meet you, friend,” he dipped his head in return, a hint of a smile playing at the corner of his lips. “I’m Murdock.”
A subtle sweep of Thor’s head to one side presented an invitation, which he wordlessly accepted. He took his place at the stallion’s side, stepping up beside him and turning so that he could see the wide expanse of the ocean spread out beyond the cliff before them .The sea was impressive and vast, black and roiling beneath the pale rays of winter sunlight. It amazed him how the water never froze over, never turned to solid ice so that one might walk across its surface toward whatever new lands lay beyond the horizon. It was disappointing in a way, as perhaps that would allow those without wings a chance to explore the greater reaches of their world.
He drew his attention away from the ocean, his graze tracing the jagged line of the cliffs and trailing over the crisp, patchy blanket of snow to where his hooves were placed evenly apart on the earth. The season was still young and the Edge had not yet been entirely encased in ice; tall grasses still wavered in the wind and brown, withered leaves still clung desperately to crippled branches. He noticed, as he stared quietly at his feet, the size of his companion’s hoof. It made him feel suddenly small and frail as he looked up at this stallion, several feet taller than himself with a build like an ox.
Fortunately for Murdock, he and Thor appeared to be on the same side. A smile reappeared on his face at the question that was presented to him, and he shifted his weight thoughtfully as he gazed out at the sea. Glory days? Perhaps he had, when he was much younger and fighting wars along with the other young mercenaries he had trained with. He had never been regarded a hero, though, never been rewarded glorious titles for his accomplishments. However, he had never desired those things; the differences he had made and the freedom he had won had been worth the fight.
He thought of the best days of his life, the times when he was truly happy and felt that nothing could possibly go wrong. Surely those were his ‘glory days’. He thought of time spent with his mother on the cliffs of his homeland, missions in foreign lands with companions who had become as close as brothers to him, cold nights spent on white plains with a certain dark and clever mare. His smile broadened. “Perhaps I am no stranger to glory and pride, but I assure you my accomplishments are small and of little note. However, you have captured my interest. What epic tales do you have to share?”
"talk talk talk talk "
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