silver's meant to burn forever
[Ares, Eris and Ahriman.]
So this is snow, the real deal, as far as the eye can see. In my childish state I am nothing short of amazed at the vastness of this place, though I have soon forgotten what it is called. With dainty steps, I walk forward on long limbs, tiny hooves sinking in as the top layers of snow melt at the touch. I am barely a couple of months old, but my adventurous trait has caused me to wander from my dam, as it will on many occasions in the future. As to not drive her into exasperation, it was decided that Ahriman should follow us, to protect us. I look at him with my electric blue gaze and I do not find the yearling to be much of a guardian; I do not see what he could really do if someone set out to hurt us. Not that I really care; my knowledge of this world and the evils it has in store is very limited.
My bright orange mane stands out clearly in the landscape, and I soon take the lead of our little flock of three, eager to be first to everything. The tip of a tiny horn has broken through my skin by a couple of weeks ago and I carry my crown proudly to show it off; little do I know that in these regions, a horn may mean the difference between life and death. Every now and then, I stumble, for my balance is not quite as sturdy as that of my sister. It frustrates me, that she should be able to run faster and better than me. Taking a cheeky glance backwards, I throw myself forward into a wild gallop, whinnying loudly for sister to follow suit.
The gilded child that follows suit behind her twin is less rambunctious in her behavior. Lavender pools glance around her with slight boredom in their depths, not especially excited to stand in snow above her knees. Unlike Ares, she feels the cold as it comes creeping, chilling her to the bone. A shiver runs through her and she flaps her tiny, orange-tipped wings in discomfort, before folding them neatly on her back. When she learned to fly, she would never have to walk in snow again, she promised herself as much. Despite her hardships, the filla moved with a considerable grace for her age, though the image was thoroughly spoiled by the lankiness of her appearance.
Eris watched with obvious disapproval on her face when her twin set forward galloping, hollering. What was he thinking, did he want to get in trouble? Rolling her eyes, she thought about letting him run, but then the special twin-bond compelled her to be close to him, so the palomino girl soon set after, gaining ground on Ares slowly but steadily. It did not occur to her to look back and see if Ahriman was coming too; her older brother did little more than annoy her these days. If she could shake him off, at least this trip would have an element of excitement to it, instead of just being cold and wet.
Her orange-haired brother soon slowed when she reached his side, and they trotted merrily along, Eris nibbling softly at her brother’s sprouting mane. Tiny lips graced the black feather that sat there; she had been gifted one exactly the same at their birth, and she carried it with pride. It was a token of their unity. The unnatural warmth of Ares’ body soothed her bad temper slightly, and the filly even started peering around curiously, to see if someone had heard them.
He had got his work cut out for him, that was certain. At this point, the ghostly pale yearling had somewhat come to regret his offer to babysit. But mother needed some time to herself; anything he could do to relieve her was good. Having twins was not easy, and these twins in particular seemed extremely hard work, Ahriman thought. Or, maybe it was just because they were his siblings. The pearlescent youth had no trouble keeping up with the babies, but the snow did not appeal to him. As a child of summer, he loved the blistering sun and warm zephyrs of that season; not the icy cold of winter. Sighing, he watched the two palomino rumps that were moving ahead of him. Sometimes, he couldn’t help but feel terribly plain in the company of those two, with their crazy colors and extra appendages. Ahriman did not know it, but he was turning into quite a beautiful little yearling himself, with thick, pale lashes framing his expressive mulberry eyes and silky tresses already growing long for his age. He was gaining elegance, body and legs being balanced out slightly, and despite the weather he was well-nourished with a shining hide of the purest ivory.
When he looked up again, the twins had set off into a gallop and were moving further away from him at an astounding speed. A flash of fear went over his delicate features as he found himself uttering one of the maternal calls he had heard his mother use when calling for the two little terrorists. Carefully placing his feet, so he might not slip and get hurt, he set after then in a fast-paced trot, lifting his knees high to get rid of the slush and snow. Soon enough they halted and he caught up, almost as out of breath as they. “Mother said to not run away, or there would be no more exploring, do you hear? Do not do that again, or I will have to tell her,” he scolded, though his words sounded hollow when his sister turned her head and looked at him with overbearing eyes. Glancing around, he realized their run had taken them further into the terrain where he hadn’t been before. Swallowing hard, he prayed under his breath that they would not be lost. Out here, getting lost would certainly mean their demise.
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