A flicker of movement, and the stallion changes. Dark eyes widen as his mane grew short, and his flesh melted away. I had seen nothing like this before, yet it was gone in an instant, a cloak not unlike my sister's drawn up around the boy. That would explain some of the strange smell, this magic; but what was meant by the transformation? Was the change a disguise, or was I witnessing the real stallion in that brief moment? I moved to step forward, lips parting to question the paint, but a motion from the young tiger caught my attention. Golden eyes stare into mine, and for a moment I am transfixed by the cat, and cannot look away, even as the words of the stallion seemed to emerge from his companion's gaping jaws. Curiosity, the need to understand these words... I blink, and have broken the spell, and look back at the stallion.
Dead, he has called himself, and suddenly something makes sense. Yet it makes no sense at all - the dead do not walk, do they? Could that moment of clarity be proof of death's touch upon this stallion? And if so, how did it come to pass? A hesitation, eyes drifted back to the tiger for a moment. I try to stop it, but it escapes, a dry tone forcing itself out of my mouth and into the still air. "You look quite good for one who is dead." I really ought to just let Mirage do the talking. She's far better at it than I.