_{Lend me your eyes I can change what you see.
But your soul you must keep, totally free}

Captivity silenced the young colt, drawing him into himself as he clung to his mother's side. The rage that pooled off of his mother in waves made a rage grow in his own heart, a thick, inky darkness spreading over his heart. He felt hatred for the mare he had started to trust, Smoke. When they first met on the beach, with the graying warrior and the young winged filly, he had seen a kindness in her that he was not accustomed to. He now believed that it had all been an act--that she had planned on taking him away from that moment until her act had been done. He wondered if she had caused him, in some way, to trip and cut his leg so she could trick him into following her home. Bile bubbled in the back of the youth's throat as his thoughts roared inside him like a hurricane, barring any positivity from his developing brain. It made him want to spit.

His only solace was the pristine white mare that stood guard over him, her icy eyes cold and hard. He knew that she would use the white, spiraled horn that his own was crafted to reflect to disembowel anyone that tried to lay hoof on him. Kou was angry, perpetually, in their forest prison. He deduced that was why Smoke kept her distance, fearful not that his mother had joined them. Part of him wanted to watch Kou burry her horn deep into Smoke's chest, to ruin her and bend her and break her. If he could growl like Aramis, he would.

In the early morning he had left his mother's side as she slept warily. It had been the first time she had closed her eyes in days. He felt a pang of guilt over his looming mother, her need to protect him so great that she began to neglect herself. Some part of him, however, admired the dedication and selfless love that she displayed. He would do that same for Sacre he thought, dismissing himself. He was on his way to search for water, his body no longer needing the milk of his mother. He would be an adult soon, and already he was a tall, leggy sort of boy. His growing head kept low to the ground, dark nostrils flaring and navigating him through the thick brush of the forest. The need for water fueled his solid, multi-colored hooves, but a phantom scent stopped him dead in his tracks. Sacre. The scent of his twin had teased him greatly the past season, but whenever he galloped towards the deft smell he was not rewarded. This time, however, the distant ring of his twin's voice rang in the tip of his ears.

"SACRE!" The boy screamed, his vocal chords stinging with the impact and strain his voice left from disuse. It must have been the first word he had spoken in weeks. Without notice, his long legs stretched beneath him, reaching blindly for the loamy soil to push him closer. He neared the cliff, voices muffled but present as blood pounded in his ears. Branches reached out with sharp fingers, scraping along his shoulders, leaving reddened lines of blood like a razor's cut. Ignoring the pain, the adolescent grinded his teeth together, grunting as he burst into the clearing of trees, the crash of ocean waves beneath the ridge screaming for him to halt. Breathless, with blind eyes wild, the blood colt stood with his legs splayed, head between them as he gasped for air. His lungs expanded quickly, relieving him for only a second before the unseeing colt became fully aware of the presence that was not his brother, standing merely a fox-length away.

His body went rigid, shoulders squaring and head shooting straight up. He attempted to puff his chest out, eyes narrowing into silver slits.