"What happened to the brother that came here?"

He smiled, an automatic reaction when he thought of his brother. They were so very different, and had never been close at home, but after the revolt and the ensuing anarchy, the pair had travelled together and become very good friends. They were not dependent on each other, of course, having grown up very much apart. They travelled together at times and apart at times. Quilyan would find his way to warmth and a willing mare, and Erigor went off to do... whatever Erigor did. They were two very different stallions, Quilyan with his charm and dry wit, and Erigor with his stately presence and knowledge. They were formidable as their own entities, but together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

"To be honest, I'm not entirely sure where he's gotten off to... but don't worry," he added hastily. "I'm sure he's fine. We don't always travel together, he and I, but we always find each other again. In fact, I just saw him a few days ago when we arrived here." Thinking of his brother was to bring fond memories to the forefront of his mind, almost all of them from the recent months of their travel. But to think of his brother was to remember his other siblings, and his parents, and all of those who were his family, even if not by blood. And to think of them was to remember his lost home.

He remembered his mother's golden eyes, peering at him with mirth when he was but a youngling, when he was the only child, and she had eyes only for him. He remembered his father's massive wingspan, the largest in all the kingdoms, they said. Magnus, a full-grown stallion now (or, rather, when the revolution began), but the memory was of his younger years, a rowdy little ball of chestnut, all action and no brains, but lovable, to be sure. Anayis, the first of the girls, a beautiful filly, and so kind-hearted. Much to soft to be of any use, but he remembered her giggle, infectious as Mother told them bedtime stories. Then came Ishtar, a fiery filly with the personality of a stallion - Father always did say she should have been born a male - and her twin, Nasreen.

Nasreen had been his favorite sibling, though he'd never admit to having a soft spot for her. She was shy, but intelligent, with a witty sense of humor that matched his own, though it was rarely used. She was two, so young - had she survived? And lastly, Eirik, the youngest. He was the plainest of all of them, and far too young to have developed a standout personality. Still, bland as he was, he was Quilyan's brother, and he would miss the chance to teach him to spar, to teach him to carry himself like the prince that he never knew he was. With the memories came the questions: where were they now? Were they even alive? Mother had been pregnant again - would she have lived to carry the foal to term? Would he ever meet his sibling, or was the chance stolen from him with his home? He had never been a family man at home, but now, their ghosts consumed his every thought.

[W/C | ---]
Walk walk walk.
Talk talk talk.
Think think think.