He shields violently to the side as she appears, just barely avoiding her charge. His first instinct is to run, leap away from this violent girl and loose himself in the trees. True, these trees are widely spaced, and the ground is firm beneath his hooves, very different from his dark, mossy bogs, but he is fast. She would not catch him, not in her battered condition, and he does not care that she is beautiful, nor does he understand her half-spoken apology, having never really received one before.
It is the rain that stops him, and her expression afterwards that stills his skittering feet. A sign, he thinks, and maybe she's a rain spirit. Why such a being should be glad to see him, the monster boy, he doesn't know, but she is, he can tell from her eyes and her smile, and so he offers a smile back, not minding that the gesture is probably ruined by the jawbone he still holds.
She speaks to him, but he doesn't listen much to the words, instead focusing on her tone, the quiet chiming that only cements his odd theory. She is rain, and she has come to him and stayed. This lovely silver and white nymph has chosen his company, and he is proud. But, she almost seems to be warning him of something, and he doesn't understand what or why. Fighting, but against who? And why should he be bothered when he is a monster? Maybe she means that all the unnatural ones are being chased away, just like he has always been. His head tilts slightly in his confusion, and his thick tail begins to stir in mild agitation. Why are those like him always persecuted? They have done nothing wrong, and why would a rain spirit be hated too? Don't they like rain here? He doesn't know, but he decides he will stay, will fight to save the myths and demons from those who would see them dead.
He goes to voice this declaration, to promise his aid in this unjust war, but he is distracted. There is sound, a violent, horrifying sound, and Slaiter is thrilled. That is the sound of something not-right, a thing that Should-Not-Be, something like him. Ears prick eagerly toward the noises, and his hooves begin to dance again. Finally, he can belong, and he turns to the fae, thinking perhaps she will know who it is out there. She is smiling again, he notes, and surely she is just as pleased as he to find an ally. "Let's go see!"
No one ever claimed that the stallion was smart.
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Going To A Party Where No One's Still Alive
