kid

"Thank you," I murmur, head stooping and ears sliding back as I offer my gratitude. "That night you healed me, thank you." It's only a moment of softer syllables, lips unsure of how to form those two simple words (thank you)— I'd never truly been thankful for anything in my life. There was nothing to be thankful for. I was always given shit, why should I be thankful for that (I'm not)?

The mention of Zhu has my face twisting up, ears flattening and stomach churning. Zhu. He's been gone (waiting), and as much as I'd like to say fuck him, I don't care, there's that little ember of shitty familial love. For Sabre it's a wildfire, a desperate need to find her and bring her back home, to show her Volterra and teach her the language (Hungarian) I so choppily speak. With Zhu it's more of a need to prove something (what?). What will I prove? What do I want to prove? Who am I trying to prove anything to? Volterra. Colt. Everyone.

I don't want to be seen as weak and small, as something unfortunate— an insignificant piece in a strong family, I am the weakest link. I am fighting against it, trying to work my way out of this pit I've been forced in to. Fuck it. I'm not going to be called a child, a boy, a weak baby. That time is over, it's time for me to stand up (fuck you, Mother) and prove my worth.

The mention of my brother makes my mouth bitter, tail flickering against a brindled thigh— "Yeah." Observant, passive. I look to the ghastly deer and its dragging flora, draped over the pale figure like he's the focus of an aesthetic picture (I should be the focus, honestly). Hobgoblin, the familiar companion who had been by Zhu's side when we'd met in the forest months ago— he'd mentioned that he was his mother's (I just didn't realize that this is his mother). I didn't expect his mother to be her, the woman who'd guided me through a night of

"You're his mom," I state the obvious just to throw it out there in the open, to let it still in the air and gradually grow stale. So she had a little affair with Volterra as well (it seems everyone has)— how does he manage it? How does he jump mare to mare, careless on whether nature has taken its course and he's (once again) a father? My face remains still, lips tight, even as I grimace at the idea of having countless siblings to go up against (who will take it all?). Even though Zhu and I were very close in age, the number of Volterra's successful hits was countless. Perhaps there were even more children than anyone knew about? Somewhere hidden among hundreds of others, there are more children carrying Volterra's blood.

I look to her face, washed with a clam blue glow that cascades from her horn. She is the one who inspired my rebellion, the tedious avoidance of Mother's relentless teachings— with her help I began to change, I forgot the learned disgust and hatred towards other species and let something new settle there. I wasn't going to listen to Mother's angry rants about the reason we have to hate those of a different breed, tuning out and nodding mindlessly along as she ranted. I've long since forgotten the sickening feeling I would force myself into upon sight of a horn or wings, deciding that there was much more to see and focus on than the difference between species. This mare had been only the beginning.

"Yes, I unfortunately am." I confirm the obvious, knowing that she (and Hobgoblin, the weird fucker) already knew that Zhu and I shared blood. Bubblegum lingers on her features, seeking out subtle changes and minor details. "I am not the only one, there's a growing number of Volterra spawn parading around Helovia. My sister and I were only the first, Zhu seemed to follow not long after." This likely isn't news to her, because who doesn't know how big of a ho Volterra is?

I watch her sink deeper into the pool she's been standing in, eyes caught on the rippling of the water as her scarred body slips closer to the surface. I take silent steps forward, lacking hesitance in my stride until I reach the lip of the pool, mismatched hooves clicking against stone and sinking into moss. I linger here at the edge, watching the water soak her hide as she relaxes. "Sure." I take the first step into the pool, taking a moment to adjust my smaller body until finally I can slip down into a position mirroring the unicorn's. The water darkens my coat, brindling blending with the dark hair of my thigh as I relax into the position. "How did someone as nice as yourself produce something like Zhu?" It's spoken lightly, a playful beginning to a conversation— my relationship with most adults is distant and quiet, always serious and indifferent. It was never so closely personal, not in the way this one was, the way she'd held me while I sobbed and fretted over returning to mother— no one else had ever taken that daring step into my personal space (into my life).

"Talk."