Washing over me, the rain feels warm, despite the dreariness of the day.

The hum of my voice ringing across the earth, which whispers a quake in response, hardly noticeable. More like a constant vibration than a quake, making the tallest of the grasses dance ever so slightly as I walk by. I am no longer ignorant of such occurrances, knowing my body to be born of magic and a powerful mother. I was never intended to be an ordinary child, and, try though I may to be normal, I will never accomplish it. I am one of the Earth's guardians, born with a purpose. Whatever I would want my existence to be matters little. I just need to keep on the path born for me. I must grow into the position I am to fill.

Destiny has a funny way of picking the worst chap for the job, though. This rain reminds me of the frightened child who left the Foothills, plastering a brave face on. Frightened to live alone in the world, frightened to fail. Like the rain does for the plants, the ordeal of this past winter and spring had helped me grow. The weight of the lives of others on my shoulders rested uneasily at first, but now in the absence of that weight I felt strangely empty. Would Atlas feel the same if he placed the earth down, even for a moment? I wonder.

As the harp plays the tune that I hum, I begin to hear a skip in the harmony. The disruption breaks the concentration of my former thoughts, and, with a clearing head, I begin to glance around. Voice and body pause, the music dying into a quite twinkle in the background. I hear it again. The sound is laughter, so strangely familiar, but the more familiar the more strange it becomes. Mother? I think to myself. Immediately I try to dismiss this thought, for how often had I heard my mother laugh in the months growing at her side?

There it is again.
Laughter.
Mother's unmistakeable laughter.

Stretching my head high above the grasses, much less of a feat for me now that I stood nearly seventeen hands from the earth. My soaking crown twists and turns, bicolored eyes seeking out the sleek black figure with a waving white banner. I listen for the sighing of her laughter, the thud of hooves. It is then I see her from a distance.

This is a moment that I will recall on my death bed, not because it is fanastic in any normal sense. The swelling of my heart, the instant that my eyes meet her tears begin to fall. The sound of her laughter echoing in my mind. The way rain fell between us. The comical appearance of Bear chasing after her as fast as he can. The slap of grass against her white washed legs. No matter who you meet in life, no matter where you go, the most important being in your life will always be your mother.

I smile into the rain, and, with a hearty and masculine voice, I begin to laugh as well. Just when you give up hope of finding the one thing in the world you need, it stumbles upon you unwittingly.

I am not sure if the universe has a sense of irony or is just an ass.
Probably both.

My long limbs take to speed, racing across the field with undue speed. The harp whistles against the wind as it speeds alongside me, raindrops splashing against our frames, my laughter rushing ahead. I make my way to run side by side, glancing over with joyous eyes and a long, tight grin. "Mother!"

The slight smile, the tilt of her head, the glimmer of mischief within crimson pools. How I had missed my mother, the amount of which had been unknown until this moment. Onward I ran, racing against the distance, sidling up next to her. My longer legs match her stride, a grin growing on my features as we continue to race forward.

The rain falls.
The water pelts against my skin, against my face, washing me like warm tears of relief.

Each breath feels new, my chest growing lighter, a laugh bubbling up from my lungs. Instead of the laugh of a child, it is now the laugh of a man. Regardless of my height, the growing muscle, the burly appearance of my father peering through, there is still the purest form of childlike delight strewn across my features. I would never be able to outgrow my mother, no matter how old I became. While others may view a stallion, I am little more than a buck-kneed colt before her. I grow strong, I grow tall, I grow every day. The place where I remain static will always be by the side of my mother.

The only difference now is that I can keep her pace much easier. I glance over, the white locks plastered to her ebony neck in the rain, blood-tipped horn pointing the way. I am so absorbed with the sheer presence of my oldest companion that I nearly miss the approaching treeline.

If not for her own slowing of pace, I may not have even glanced in their direction. With fumbling limbs, I attempt to regain the image of grace I held just moments before. I weave unevenly through the trees, searching for flashes of bronze and white mingling with the shadows. Unfortunately, my maneuvers are not as precise as mother's, leading to a couple of unpleasant slaps in the face from trees (being taller is not always better, okay).

Another laugh. Hearty smiles. I am no longer lost.

Mother begins to slow and I follow her lead, gait slowly winding down to a trot. I break beside her, my sides wavering heavily. Despite being young, such sprinting is still not my strongest suit. I am a larger, heftier breed; I know this well. Endurance, speed, agility - I had little of each. What agility I have gained comes from the dexterous figure of my mother, but the majority of my build stems from the solid form of my Father. We are mountains, he and I. Large and imposing. In contrast, we both wear jolly smiles on our exterior instead of a face of stone.

Stone is much more native to my crimson eyed mother.

"I went to the Foothills," I say, after she speaks of me. "You were already gone." I smile sadly, a bit, before my grin enlarges once more. My heart beats excitedly, my mind flooding with memories and happiness. How long had it been since I had set eyes on the ebony figure of my mother? Time had ceased to matter during the Endless Night, but now those months crammed together. Like it had been only moments since I left her side as a yearling. Only now, my withers reach past hers, my figure growing like a weed toward the sun.

As she steps forward, I allow her neck to wrap around me, my own curving to rest my muzzle upon her back. I breathe deeply, reminded of the solace that I had found in my mother's strength. At her side, I often felt as though nothing in the world could harm me. Having faced that world alone, I now felt a different comfort. More than safety, I felt happy. No longer alone against the darkness of the world. I had missed my family. I had missed my mother. I no longer needed her to protect me from the monsters behind tree trunks, but from the demons of my own mind. Company to chase away the loneliness. Love to chase away the insecurity.

Mother.

Taking a few breaths, I smile against her pelt. I had been worried before that she would not be proud of me. Now, I realize that no matter the outcome of my journeys, I will always be her son. It is not about pride. Not about my success. I am not the son of a God, but the son of Ktulu. I am her son.
That will never change.