No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
As he turned, a smaller creature slithered near, dark pelted, though with a face as bleached as bone. It was a filly, with all of the brazenness of a warrior four times her size and she snarled and hacked in some foreign tongue – unpleasantly enough to tempt slim red ears back against silky, soft mane. Hector noted warily that the assault of words was directed at neither the child in his care, nor he, though slipped a protective wing between nonetheless. He paid their squabble little heed, though Isara pressed closer, calling on the bond they had forged for reassurance and lips moved with unusual tenderness to tousle thick ivory dressing her poll.
The flicker of movement beyond their small (juvenile) gathering drew his shrewd gaze to the trees – there, approaching with another horned stallion was the pale dame from the Threshold. Uncomfortably he shifted, but not for one second did his wing slip from its clutch; and Veci who rose from silence to meet her was promptly reeled back. Do not... the stallion threatened, casting a glowing eye across the Boggart’s invisible form (he could see it well). December began to speak, and he was both surprised and unnerved by her almost unaffected tone – the tawny giant eyed her carefully, even despite the pang of guilt suffered in his bowels.
The shadowy hybrid from their home turned to leave, and Hector bid her safe travelling. They were kin after all, and there was no telling what terrors lurked this time through Helovia.
Briefly gaze grazed the lingering stallion, shorter than the company he kept, though about as thick... A canine trailed in his wake, and lips curled subtly as he regarded the creature carefully – December was from the Falls, she was an ally this time. Then Isara moved against him, streaking by the flesh of his breast and her fear radiated through him like a potent chemical that could not be ignored. Hector travelled forward a step covering the frightened girl with a tucked chin, but even as he moved to warn away the poor mare from their space, shards of blue and white were springing from the earth between them.
A snort erupted from the nostrils as his proud skull flung to the air – he could not have guess their summoner. A warning rang through the grove like clarion bells, the first and only he would offer before seeing their company away; but Isara’s glance by him lulled down his alarm, and cautiously he surveyed the expression she wore. It was you? he mused, and Veci writhed as the chaos neared its climax. December had been slashed, injured, which had never been the intention – nor had he meant for those eyes to fill with such heartache. The silence seemed to fence around them, trap them, but eventually the wounded mare turned and muttered to the loitering brute.
The damage had been done – a snowballing cataclysm that Veci had cunningly begun. "Isa..." he whispered in turn to the girl – the tenor of his voice was stern, unwavering. "It is time to leave." Carefully though; he deliberately waited long enough to be certain that their company had long vanished into the tangled wilderness surrounding, and then lowered his face to her level. Tenderness resonated, unmistakably, but the stallion was also concerned. "Perhaps we can talk about this when the Earth God is not waiting for our return." Another gentle, paternal murmur was placed against her growing mane, before he led at a far kinder pace back to the meadow.
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