Paladin's older habits still had not died. He rested his body against a tree, back to the cliff-sides that provided a barricade. As he slept, he had one ear turned to the left and the other forward, aware of all sounds around him, and a crimson eye would crack open at the faintest creak of a branch, leaden with snow or chirp of a bird. The stallion felt the sun rise on that morning, heating his back, and he shifted his weight from the tree and shook off the snow that had fallen on him during the night. He felt out of his own body, out of place, almost. The dreams of the Tides were getting stronger and harder to shake, as if he could close his eyes and the crash of waves would greet him....
A sigh of white moved past his lips, and he pushed his body through the minor ache and pains of age into a brisk trot, starting his routine of checking the borders. Paladin's figure had not lost any of its defined muscularity, but patches of silver hairs were getting more visible. He had not been easy on his body, having been born into war and continued with that trend for most of his life. Now it seemed that it was rebelling against him, conspiring to make him a sedentary louse for eternity.
He had also managed to grow quite a distinctive beard. The hairs were long and mostly black except near his chin where a small patch of white skin made the hairs turn white as well. Interwoven were also long tendrils of gray, and he mused that he truly was falling apart. The sound of a laugh caught him off guard at this early hour of morning, and he furrowed his brows, altering his course ever so slightly to an only lightly dusted clearing.
The last being he ever thought he would see dancing with a flagged tail in the snow would be Smoke, ever the stoic and rather disinterested mare he can come to know her by. Confused and somewhat jealous, he stood for a moment and watched from the shadows. How had she been able to retain her soul after such loss? He remembered the way he used to dance on the Tides, with Valhalla and Soleil ages ago. Now his soul seemed to be lead in his hooves, and he turned his head to look over his back for a moment, not sure he should be watching Smoke in this moment.
The stallion cleared his throat and then also lowered his head to eat, not even realizing that he had been hungry. He had grown numb, even to his body's needs. Paladin did not know what to say. He and Smoke had never been close, had never truly been friends, but he would not judge this new kindness with such scrutiny. The black dun could use a friend who understood his loss.
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