Of all the things that Myrddin had witnessed in his long life, these final images - his final moments of seeing, were rushed and blurred. Yet in the days to come, they would sharpen and the image of what happened, would become clear behind his now sightless eyes.

The air was still and cool and brought the heavy foot steps of the colt to Myrddin's ears even before the youngster came into view. Maybe, if Myr hadn't been so lost in his own cacophony of thoughts, things might have been different. Maybe, if he had moved, rather than just stood there, allowing the pup's hallucination to fully envelope his shape, things might have been different. Maybe - but Myrddin would not let these thoughts linger. What happened, happened. There was no going back now.

What an image this was to see, although we can assume that Myrddin may never appreciate the artistic beauty of how these events unfolded: Myrddin was white, Knox was black, or nearly so - his strange dappling did not take away from the stark contrast of the two. While Myrddin was a little taller than the colt, Knox's fullness easily made him look just as tall as the slender old stallion. Then their was the dog - Myr barely had time to even sense the change in the creature - he was too busy lazily letting his mind drift and mull on how it appeared that as the pup rode on the colt, how they seemed to blend together, like some weird hybrid.

Then there was nothing.

The world did not fade away, but instead seemed to rock and brighten all at once. As his sight vanished, Myrddin staggered sideways as if his centre of gravity had somehow shifted. Head low, as it was when the pair arrived, Myr staggered for breath as he tried to comprehend what had just happened. He didn't immediately perceive that he had been blinded - everything had suddenly become much louder and much colder, as if his other senses, rather than gradually becoming stronger, had surged into overdrive, even if only momentarily. And it was only momentarily, sadly. The world hushed back to the quiet it had been only moments ago - what did the world care, that one stallion had lost his sight?

Raising his head, Myrddin stood tall - his eyes were wide and now were filled with a chillingly blank look - murky white was beginning to cloud over his once deep twilit' eyes. He surveyed the general direction that he remembered the colt and pup to be, eventually settling his gaze a little left of them, and a little too high. In a voice that did not (would not) shake, Myrddin spoke: "I would have your names". His voice was solemn and stern, but not necessarily angry. Or maybe just not yet.


[Permission to permanently blind :)]