“Believe that life is worth living and your belief will help create the fact.”
Thor's first words were a loaded question. Hesitation throbbed in the dapple's chest, and he lowered his head. What if he told Thor and then this World's Edge herd took the idea and used it? His steps slowed, and he closed his eyes tight, before quickly picking up speed and return to Thor's side, gaze landing on the glass wall. He focused on his breathing; In...out....in....out. "Because the elders were old. They could not break through the ice alone nor could they push a path through the snow. The young because we did naught but eat; and He could not breed with us." The way Cetan phrased 'he' was as if he held the obvious stallion in high regard, even considering the atrocity of the stallion's decision to abandon all old and young to the elements. For what else was the Lead to do? His herd was starving, and there were too many young and old to take care of. To Cetan, the decision was well founded, and he had accepted it and left before the Lead's hooves could find his already scarred hide. The loss of the young and old was only temporary, after all. Cetan was positive come spring his mother would have another foal to replace Cetan, and life would go on.
It was just the way of things, he had decided. As it would be with this new herd. He had no delusions that he would live out the rest of his life with this World's Edge. At some point, he would be chased off once again and wander alone until the next herd came to draw him in. Life was fluid after all.
The beauty of the glass wall began to fade the closer they drew to it, Cetan's ice-colored gaze flickering over the cracked and shattered fragility of it. It was a sad sight to see something so beautiful forsaken and left in disrepair. So instead the youth focused his gaze on the entrance and the mists beyond. What lay in their depths? What wonders, what terrors? It was an entirely new place, and Cetan wasn't sure his anxiety could take it. But...for some reason he did not want to appear the coward he was. Not in front of this giant, this.... blând unul. So he remained by Thor's side as they approached. His left ear twitched towards Thor as once again he spoke, his deep baritone ringing through Cetan's head and down to his chest. Family... Why did the word stir such an ache throughout his body? Such a deep, throbbing ache. The most similar thing he could compare it to was as if his entire body was a week-old bruise; past the point of sharp pain, but burning pulses of it. Cet's mind couldn't wrap around it, and his confusion was plain.
How could they be family? He was downright positive this giant was not his sire, and definitely not his dam, or any of his ancestors. They were not blood, and he was pretty sure none in this Edge herd would be of his lineage. So...why did he call them family? It was a question he itched to ask, but didn't want his ignorance to be shown to his...companion. He knew he already showed his cowardly nature to Thor, he did not want him to see his stupidity as well. So he did not ask, and instead continued to listen.
But Thor spoke no more, and the passage through the wall loomed closer. To Cetan, it seemed no time at all before they were before the gap, and Thor moved aside to let the smaller pass first. Gathering what little scraps of courage he held, Cetan passed through the gap on trembling legs, gaze flickering rapidly around the surrounding past the wall. Mist. It was everywhere across the ground, and began wrapping itself around his ankles, his legs. He froze in place, ready to bolt out the passage and flee back into the clear air. But then, startlingly, he lowered his head and peered through the vapor at the ground, ears pricked before inch by inch his body relaxed, the trembling and fear gone, replaced by an overwhelming curiousity. He was fast. He could outrun whatever dangers lay within these walls, couldn't he? His first few steps were hesitant, but the mist wove in delighted spirals around in the air, and his gaze trailed the tendrils with a sense of wonder. It was like a living thing, these wisps, and when he looked back at himself, the ends of his pale mane and tail almost vanished within it's depths. Had he been born as silver as his hair, he would be a ghost, a thing born from the mist itself. The image made him laugh, and he shied at the sound, ears pricked, not realizing for a second that it was him who made the sound.
Shaking himself, he turned his head to look for Thor, realizing he had strayed quite a bit from the gap, so he trotted briskly back to the draft's side, his steps light. He settled back into place at Thor's side, his head swiveling to the mist, ears pricked. 'Later i will come.' He promised to himself before looking back at Thor. There was still the aura of distrust, of paranoia around the young stallion, but now there was also a sense of...well Cetan did not know the word, but peace. It was the feel of the soft fog against his legs, a reassuring presence that caused this. Cetan had no knowledge of what to call it, so he just settled for ceață moale. That decided, he listened as Thor's rumbling voice rang out once again. Work? Mentors?
"I don't know what any of that is. Nurse, crafter, pheelosiferr, warrior, mentor, teacher... What do they mean?" His brow furrowed slightly in confusion. Were they places? Things? People? Would he meet a equine named Pheelosiferr? Sounded like a torture, a cruel joke played upon the poor horse on it's parents. Teacher... teacher sounded familiar, but for the life of him, Cetan could not place the word. Those things...they had just simply not existed. Feeling as if his ignorance was damning, the youth ducked his head again, ears pinned. "I'm sorry blând unul." Would the gargantuan stallion lay into him now? A part of Cetan was still anticipating the blows of those giant hooves, or the searing pain of his teeth against his skin. Would this finally be Cetan's flaw that tipped the stallion? All Cetan could do was pray that being named blând unul would reign in the imaginary temper and lessen his punishment.
Translation
blând unul - gentle one
ceață moale - soft mist
(Yes, Cet is Romanian XD I just like the sound of the language shhshh)
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Word Count:1115 Tags:@[Thor] |
Please tag Cetan in all posts.
Any force is allowed against Cetan short of killing him.
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