[ Knox is in his own form ]

It's the black lines beneath Darwin's blue eyes that give it away.

Of course, Darwin is the spitting image of his father, Knox's brother, Wilder. Of course there is that oddity of a mutthood, the awkward hairy mix of arabian and draft that is both beauty and grace. Of course there is the smell, the one you couldn't shake, the scent of a twisted family that subsists on blood even after its empire has fallen. Of course there is the pang in his heart, the sort of hurt that comes only with memories like these. Maybe Darwin is different now, maybe he is no longer a child, but he is still Knox's brother.

He will always be Knox's brother.

And so against his better judgement, Knox speaks the colt's--no, stallion's--name out loud. He admits the relation unintentionally, traps himself in a corner. He isn't sure if he expects to be met with recognition or joy or disgust.

Whatever Knox expects, he doesn't expect to have been entirely forgotten. And it hurts, because Knox feels things for Darwin he hasn't felt in some time. Not what he feels for Archibald--that is a deep sort of loyalty that runs steady like the sea. No, this is a loyalty as cutting and hard to navigate as a canyon river.

{Dovev:} He doesn't remember you.

But...

{Dovev:} You are worthless.

But I...

{Dovev:} You should have killed him when you had a chance Knox.

No! The thought is a scream, so difficult to suppress that Knox finds him shutting his jaws tight, trying to wire them shut with some invisible force. He has forgotten his son, he has forgotten his grief, he has forgotten the pain of the burn that eats across his face. How could Darwin recognize him like this? How could he know who Knox is? How could Darwin love him?

Somewhere behind him, Milo nickers softly. Is that the sound of fear? Is the boy seeking attention? Does he want love? Does Milo even love the hunter? Could anyone?

Knox feels weak. His knees shake, his breath comes in heavy, soft puffs that burn white in the air. He wants to tell his brother his name, to beg Darwin to return to their family. But if he isn't family to Darwin, if he is only a stranger... shouldn't he treat this pegasus like any other?

The preening companion that his brother now bears is a distraction.

{Manhattan:} He is free of the pack comes the whisper of his companion's ghost, a haunted lie that he concocts for himself as he tries to remain calm. It is true, but to see his brother so changed, so free of the oppression Knox was raised under...

What kind of stallion has Darwin become? Is he noble, is he wise? Is he gentle? Perhaps. He has never tasted blood, only the delicate scent of fresh air and affection. Knox wants to know all he has missed, to make up for it. So much lost time, so many years, gone... where has his littlest brother, the last, ever been?

"I..." it is difficult to speak. He is vaguely aware of his son at his back, hurting and wanting, needing love Knox cannot give.

He wants, he wants, he wants... but he cannot.

"I apologize. I met you once when you were just a colt, many years ago. I lived in the Windtossed Foothills when you were born, we..." we who? His family? His brothers? His fallen pack?

"...we call the land the Hidden Falls, now. Much has changed." A drop in his tone, the drop of the lump in his throat. He wants to ask where his brother has been, where he has gone and how he has lived, if he has fallen in love with just his companion or with another, if he has a family or if he is alone, if he... if he missed his family. But it's too hard. He can't tell Darwin his name, he can't tell Darwin who he is.

How can he, if the colt has just grown to be another stranger?

""