Hesperos

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At the sudden sound of footsteps he snapped to attention, jerking his head up and pulling his shoulders out, his chin raised slightly upwards. He looked over at the two equines that drew closer through his pale eyelashes. A faint thudding of his head betrayed his alarm in these two appearing out of seemingly nowhere while he was in a state of vulnerability but he refused to betray his true sentiments. ”I’m only tired,”, he claimed, dismissing their worries. Never one to talk about his feelings he didn’t even know how but he did know not to trust others. Especially in this new land with these new equines, people whose beliefs and alliances were foreign to him.

”And lost in these woods, he conceded cautiously. He took the moment to size up the two who approached him. A filly, purer white than he and a stallion, broad of shoulder and built for warfare. Though he knew better than to dismiss the filly for her demure size. Even the smallest of unicorns could prove a threat and he was not about to dismiss her just yet.

The stallion questioned his being there and Hesperos looked up at him with purpose, eyes unwavering. ”I was recruited by a member of your herd. Mauja, he called himself. I’d been wandering when he found me.” He omitted the reason for his ‘wanderings’- being overrun during battle and forced to flee while those he cared about fell around him. By now his wounds from the battle had healed but he still carried the weight of his retreat on his shoulders, unable to return and check for survivors. An instinct kicked in for him and he’d fled to save his own skin — a move some may call smart, though he only saw it as a failure on his part.

How was he to call himself a warrior if he’d fled from the only battle that’d meant anything? Fighting alongside his comrades when they raided those weaker and walked away from battles the victors; those were easy. Winning was no challenge. It was only when he’d been faced with true danger that he saw the honest side of himself and the reflection he saw filled his heart with disgust.

Realizing he hadn’t introduced himself, he started. ”My name is Hesperos,” he greeted, lowering his head in a small bow that seemed more pompousness than anything. ”A warrior in my former life. Though I don’t know how I fit in here.” He motioned with his head to the surrounding area, keeping his tone light to hide the true insecurity that lingered below. Introducing himself as a warrior was more of a reassurance to himself. Lost in this strange place with strange equines, he needed to hold onto that sliver of identity that tied himself to who he once was.

you will pray to the god that you always denied