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10-28-2013, 08:02 PM
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mesec</style> Though the rain fell mercilessly, pelting my coat and soaking it through the bone, it could do nothing to cool the rage boiling deep within the pit of my gut. The call had been easy to hear, that haughty, grating voice somehow managing to meet my ears despite the continuous rumble of thunder. The message was clear and needed no further explanation - Apollo was at risk, and I was bristling. I didn't know who had come and declared war on my painted friend, nor why they thought themselves better fit to the position of leader. Not only in my own eyes, but in the eyes of many others of the Foothills, Apollo was a fair Chief that was more than capable of handling his role. He had done no wrong, had kept us safe during an entire season of darkness, and he cared for each and every soul that stepped foot into his home. Whether to make a permanent or temporary home, it had never seemed to matter to the Merciful, whose title rang all too true. Allowing wisps of darkness to envelope my entirety, I disappeared in a moment's notice from where I had been standing only to reappear amongst the rest of the herd, who stood at the zenith of a large hill overlooking the clearing. Others had managed to get here before me, and where I would normally give them at least a glance of acknowledgement, my focus was solely upon the obsidian form of the mare standing below, bellowing out her challenge. Black ears laced against my own skull as I narrowed my gaze against her form, an uncommon gesture for me to ever display. Apollo had become a very dear friend to me, perhaps the only one I could confide in and always know where he was, trusting that he would never leave me as the others had. The threat of Confutatis could, very well, be the straw that broke my back. It wasn't until I saw Apollo's spotted form approaching his opponent that I lifted my voice, hoping that he would hear my words of encouragement before he was taken into the grips of battle. "Kick her ass, Apollo! For the Foothills!!" |
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