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"As much as the Earth God has gifted me," Archibald motioned to Loretta just as the dog nipped at the dive-bombing blue dragon, "I am not a pious stallion. It seems, as well, that none of her brothers are willing to help. I do not know how to deal with her." It was all truth, Archibald was just as much at a loss as his fellow Queen was. "All we can do is do the best we can to protect those left that we love." Archibald nodded, looking down on his delicate painted counterpart. She was so innocent and so full of compassion that it nearly hurt the Dauntless for her to be in such a place. Her responsibility as much, and she did not bear the same broad shoulders (figuratively and legitimately) that he did as a leader. Was her skin strong enough not to break with the lashings of others? No. It was not. At least, not as strong as his. He imagined how tears looked welling up on the surface of those righteous blue eyes and spilling over the surface, racing down, down, down her face as she choked and sobbed and mourned. Grimacing, noticeably, Archibald shook his head and looked away. The stallion picked his pace up to a light trot, suddenly agitated with all of the thoughts rolling around in his mind.
Archibald stopped, however, when Kahlua and Khan stopped to gather water from the pool. Archibald watched, silent, and gave a sigh as he examined the forest around them. Images of his bloody and burned body crashing down at the shores of this pool flashed in his mind like a strobe light. He remembered the healer, Tor, stitching his flesh back together. He remembered his brother, his twin, his wombmate, Vincent, snorting and moving around worriedly at finding his undefeatable brother in such a state. He remembered standing here, gaining entrance and a position of leadership with the Grey alongside the Constrictor and the Forsaken, twins he held dear in his heart. He remembered seeing glimpses and flashes of the warrior, his mate-to-be, Circe. He remembered their capture of the mare so much like Birch. He remembered turning Aaron's bones to stone and turning the stallion-colt against him.
"Kahlua, my children are in the Dragon's Throat." Loretta pressed her forehead to Archibald's knee as Kahlua turned to walk away, back toward their home, and Archibald turned to follow. His face was dark, golden eyes dull and stormy, and his bitch trotted silently at his side. She glanced up at the blue momentarily, wondering if he would come swooping towards her again. Should he, he would be brought to chase. Loretta needed a game. The malamute missed her sisters very dearly.
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
please tag me
