The indignation burns against his skin as he glares hard at the snowdrift. How dare it insult him like that! He kicks out at it again for good measure before turning away and swishing his tail angrily, his ears pinned flat against his scalp as he glowers at nothing in particular.
You! You're from the Edge. The voice makes the calf turn, his gaze landing on a filly he recognises from the griffin attack. His heart sinks - a herdmate saw him bailing into the snow? Now that makes it even more humiliating, and the colt shuffles awkwardly. "Yes, Arakh from Edge," he confirms. His ears unpeel from his head and he looks at the filly with interest. She's older than him, and wears only a horn. She bears a striking resemblance to the Edge's King, and Arakh realises that he may be in the presence of a princess; she's an attractive thing, which is odd for the young boy to notice. He tilts his bull-horned head, scrutinising closely, before his attention is snatched by the girl's companion. It is a bird, and a laughing bird. The colt frowns, ruffling his wings and trying not to show how prickled his pride is, before shooting the decimated snowdrift a withering glare.
She then remarks on him being there during the griffin incident, and finally the colt allows himself to smile. He inflates slightly, almost purring with pride at the memory, although the deep wound on his neck from the creature's claws throbs its own opinion on the matter. "Griffins hurt Esinakh, so Arakh attack them. Arakh made fire." The notion of his newfound magic is truly the best thing to come from the incident, as was the knowledge that anger seems to dull his pain. "You there too. Who are you?" His voice is deep for his age, commanding and gruff with its slight odd accent, and his pale gaze peers intently at her as he speaks.
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
⇒
[P] too much of heaven can hurt like hell
