demons run, but count the cost,
the battle's won, but the child is lost
The sound of her voice made the colt jump, his wild eyes turning to catch the gaze of his guard, a moon upon her rump and dipped in gold. This was Rishima, a mare he hadn’t really gotten to know and one he didn’t really want to. An equine, an impure his father would call her, but Sacre had been given other ideas by a grulla equine by the name of Lace who showed him no harm and spoke inspiring words. It had made him think and although this mare had never once laid a hurtful touch upon his baby head, there was a part of him now that was beginning to understand his parent’s thirst for blood. Perhaps not the racism side, but the young boy was almost starting to believe that a greater good truly did not exist in the world and it made him bitter. More bitter than a young lad should be. He wanted to go home, but he wanted answers too. For a moment he regarded Rishima, she was an old mare by Sacre’s standards and he almost laughed at himself for being held captive by a rusty bag of bones, but he had been too caught up in the battle to be bothered with struggling to escape. He had not yet seen Roux or his mother, not in the battle at least and not as captives, but that would not be surprising. Sacre had kept himself to himself mostly. Too scared to wander too far.
Her soothing voice caught in his lobes and he wobbled on his legs with uncertainty, what did she mean by good news? Could he go home now? Or was she being sarcastic? The latter was making him sick at the possibilities and he forced himself once more to meet her gaze, pushing aside all dark thoughts and boldly pushed his chest out. It was about time he started acting more like a stallion than the scared little boy he was, he would be a yearling next season. "What news?" His voice betrayed him. It cracked and broke, he knew by now that there was a small chance that this mare had come to harm him, but still he couldn’t shake that cold fear that gripped him every time he went near someone here.
The boy’s own gaze cast downwards quickly, not able to hold his brave position for long, he frowned into the lush grasses beneath his cloven hooves. It was Tallsun now, the sun was hotter, but still there was a breeze atop the cliff. He wondered what his parents were doing at this minute, what his siblings were up to, had Aviya been in the fight? Sacre was unnerved by his older sister, she seemed so strong and so like father, she probably didn’t think much of him. He wanted her strength, but not the prejudices that came with it.
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