I didn't feel remotely the same walking away from my encounter with Volterra, didn't feel any closure or satisfaction— no more than I felt when I first saw him. I was left hanging, desperate to know what I couldn't, to understand fully the man who I share blood with. Where could I get that information? Nymeria came to mind, but I'd sought her out already and she'd told her fair share of him— now it was someone new I must find.

The Mountain resurfaces, peculiar mask and hollow gold reflecting my impish features— all words and nothing beyond such, a black canvas of emptiness that was closed off from everyone. Pieces of more than just a "chance encounter when we battled in some obscure wars." She never gave more than that (other than the clarification that Volterra did not reside in the same place Nymeria and the Mountain did), simply leaving it as is. She spoke few words of aunt Nym as well— leading me to assume she was just a distance stranger here to observe the destruction rise of an empire (an army, as Volterra would think of it). So she was not a person of interest.

Zhu (and any other undiscovered kin) came to the forefront, familiar harsh features and callous moons cast down upon me. He would certainly know more of Volterra (less so than Nymeria, but enough), seeing as how he was given the opportunity to have some father-son bonding time with him (unlike someone). I could certainly search for the stoic son, the more favourable prince, charming and brutish and strong— with power and thick physique (am I jealous?), thick skulled and easily a candidate for Volterra's favour.

And of course— the man himself. I could find Volterra and his aureate queen and blood knight, could call them out in cusp of day and evening and question them in their motives. It seemed entirely possible that Volterra would tell me, would preach of victories won through brawn, could enlighten me on the magic of being a strong man, perhaps he'd take it far enough as to tell me how to fix myself (these eyes aren't going anywhere, daddy dearest) to appear more appealing to all the mares I don't want. I could even share some of my own experiences (let's see, which beating would you like to hear about first?), the interesting personalities I've come across in my exploration of Helovia and its residence. I'm sure he'd love to hear all about the trials and tribulations of my short and brutal childhood.

Instead I have chosen to linger alone at the mouth of the Caves, remembering very vaguely the time Zhu and come across me confronting some strange stallion, attempting to protect Sabre despite being the smallest and weakest of the two of us. She seemed not to mind my outburst, nor seemed to care— it was the same when I took her punishments, when I bring myself forward in her stead and let Mother do her worst (she does not waste such easy prey).

I grind my teeth together and stare into the warm glow emitted from the cave entrance, trying not to let my mind linger on the idea that Sabre was missing, that she hasn't returned to  the forest in weeks— that I have unwillingly become an only child. I want to convince myself that it's simply a temporary situation, that soon I'll see the familiar black body weaving through the trees, back in all her stubborn glory. But the idea of permanence does not leave, hovering over my head like a stormy grey cloud, bringing to me the idea that Sabre is lost somewhere I will never find her (somewhere where no one ever will, living or otherwise).

"Talk."

kid