My escape to discover my magic had gotten me a good thrashing— and I held my tongue and let Mother's hooves strike solid against my ribs (that's what being a good child is all about). It became a grueling process to endure, a pitiful sight with my knees wobbling under the pressure of her weight against me. I had felt my body beginning to crumble as she screamed, spit stringing from her maw and splattering against the ground, stained red with me. All along the forest floor there had been my blood— my source of life— the divine liquid that kept me alive. Somewhere under the pounding of my ears I heard Mother's praises, her recognition of my taking of her abuse. I held fast to the panic as I watched crimson stain the earth, flattening my ears as she switched to insults and discipline at the sight of my unstable body. She forcefully brought me to the ground, screaming wretched things in my ears, weak, intolerable, insufferable, bastard— mistake. It all clung to me, shook me to the very core of my feeble existence. I felt as she had listed, weak, a mistake. I wanted comfort and promise of safety, I wanted Sabre to be safe too. I took her beatings, took her punishments— praying that one of us could achieve greatness in the eyes of our mother. 

My disobedience brought an onslaught of disaster, my skin bruising and caked in my own blood— I was brought down to petty levels I had never thought of existing on. I did exactly what I'd been punished for— I ran. 

I seem to be running more and more despite Mother's best efforts to keep me contained, panting and gasping I'd waited until the promise of a dark night to flee— waited until Mother's eyes closed and she fell into whatever cruel dreams she dreamed. I kissed Sabre's head gingerly, some brilliant show of affection in a time of great despair. Although our adventures lay scattered in ruins among our solo runs, we were still held strong together with a bond bound by blood. I turned towards the lip of the forest, where snow covered plains met frost kissed trees. I fled, frantic and vigorous— my mission was clear. 

I ran through the snow with the bitter cold piercing my lungs and my steamy breathe curling from expanding nostrils. I'd never been out alone after dark, and no longer did I fear the things that went bump in the night— I had magic to wield that would keep me safe. Besides, whatever dared to threaten a king like me was stupid and stood no chance. I was a child born of gunslingers and warlords, bred for my battle prowess and agility I would be known across the land as something dangerous— a weapon to be feared, a master of pillage. I would spread fear like a plague, a destroyer of hope and bearer of misfortune, people would bow before me. 

Mother could not tame me, she could try with all her might but never would she dim my high spirits, never would she deflate my titan ego. I was unrestrained disaster in the body of a boy, a wild storm of bullets and chaos harnessed under hide and flesh. As I grow, so does the destruction I bring. I am no good luck charm, no rabbit's foot or gold coin— I am the black cats you see streaking across your path, the broken mirrors and the ravens dancing over graves.