Winter. Cold wind, rushing waves on sands. Both the frothing foam and the white grains reminded him of the snow in the north, and the icy bite of salt seawater had long since rendered his legs numb. It hurt, but he welcomed the pain. It made him feel alive and reminded him of all the things he would miss once he was gone. But the waves, the wind and the sand also reminded him of another place, quite similar to this one, and that pain was not so pleasant. More like a thorn than this almost sweet ache, stabbing rather than numbing.

He was running away, Cathun mused as he meandered along the shoreline. Careful steps rose and fell, gingerly due to the lack of feeling in the limbs. After the disastrous participation in a competition he had no place attending he had lagged behind Ampere, full of bitterness and anger. He had been in need of some time alone to process the whole farce, come to terms with his own failure and subsequent lack of composure. At least, the rational and reasonable part of him did. The other, passionate side was still sulking, raging against the unfairness of the world and the blows to his pride. It seethed beneath the surface, adding fuel to his flames until the ward around his neck hummed and throbbed with the surging magic, and not until the sealing beads grew icy cold to the touch did he notice and began to reel in his own rage.

It shamed him even more to be unable to keep himself at bay than to disgrace the herd that had taken him in, and as the issue grew in his mind, so did his unwillingness to go back. Days passed and turned into weeks, and before he knew it the first snow had fallen and Cathun had turned rogue. The first time he realized that he had failed to report to his superiors the shame was strong enough to bring him to his knees. By now it had faded into a constant gnawing, always present but easier to ignore. Simply another thing to weigh on his mind, weight to carry that paled in comparison to his most pressing issue.

Ah, but. To mull over rebellion and desertion on your own was one thing. Defending it in to a familiar face...

Cathun wasn't ready for this.

"Shit... Not this too", he bit off in a startled curse as the figure up ahead, the one that had been approaching for a while and that he had simply taken to be another drifting soul out to seek solitude and the council of the waves, turned out to be someone he recognized from the herd. They had never spoken and the young grullo wasn't sure he remembered which name belonged to the black stallion and which was the name of the accompanying fox.. foxes? Had they multiplied?

Regardless, he was not in the mood to talk to anyone and least of all a goody-two-shoes who was sure to ask uncomfortable questions.

It had never been so hard to assume an air of relaxation as it was now, not least because of the sorry state of his legs. Gradually, step by casual step Cathun withdrew up onto the beach and turned his back on the unicorn, fully intending to walk away without exchanging greetings. With a bit of luck the fellow wouldn't recognize Cathun, wouldn't question his absence from the herd, and they could part ways in peace and - especially - quiet.

But sadly, luck had never been on his side.


@[Sacre]

Cathun

The firebrand