Never before had I whelped the desire to curse the lords of our land. Not in a single moment of this existence had this voice wanted to bellow into heaven with the injustice of emotion. Not when my parents passed, Norse died, or Cera got hurt. My lips had only spoken holy things about a heavenly father. As a child, faith had been a priceless treasure, something that was nourished by dame and sire. There had been one other person besides them that my attention had always found comfort and support in, even at a distance. Azzuen. But now, that intangible support was gone; and in its place was emptiness and dread.

Hollowed by life, I felt used up and tossed aside. My ears rang and silver tears slithered to stain a face riddled with despair. The wind bitterly sliced through every hair on this body until it was thoroughly chilled. This planet was an inescapable hell that could only be ridden, and for a moment I wanted it all to go away. I wanted off the ride. My insides screamed for silence, a moment to myself. Away from the expectant eyes of my son and the throat, away from the judging gaze of our leaders and the responsibility it held.

Limbs sliced through a dark sky, its bowels clouded with dark clouds that hinted upon a coming storm. Wings didn’t ache despite having carried this body a long ways, indeed this entire body felt numb. I didn’t even feel the bite of fatigue when muscles begged for relief. Sweat caked my sides with white foam. Eventually my energy began to wane and I was forced to land, wings tilted closed and body landed heavily before collapsing against the frozen uncaring ground.

My nose must have struck ground first, because it felt like the only physical part on this body that actually registered pain. Tentatively my nostrils flexed and I instantly regretted the motion when affliction intensified. Finding no reason to rush into calculating further upon said damage, I choose to lie still for a moment longer. It wasn’t broken—but it sure felt flattened. Legs also felt cramped, burning from being overused in the sky. Luckily I wasn’t feeling the full brunt of being physically pushed, mostly because everything felt nulled, numb. I knew limbs, wings, and nose would eventually start aching, and my rash emotional actions would then be regretted.

It was never wise to land with the likeness of a rock—but frankly I could care less what was wise or not. What mattered right now was self-pity, and mourning the loss of a dear friend and brother. What mattered was silence. This cool air felt crisp and good against overheated flesh. I didn’t bother to open my eyes, nor did I care to find out instantly where I had landed. For a moment, the only sounds were my breath rasping, and the cold air whistling past tilted ears, and blissful ‘silence.’

The lack of humidity made each gulp feel well used and jarred senses recovered at a rapid pace until it was almost awkward to not look up. Slowly I opened my eyes, black spots swirled and the ground shifted into heaven; quickly I shut them again out of fear that I would also fall back into the sky. My body tensed nervously; momentarily I was now worrying about not knowing where I was. Obviously my flight had led a clear path north, and into a territory that was farthest from home and the least familiar. Brain pattered along, restarting itself and semi registering amid the sounds of a moan that was my own, someone was approaching. "Eh-hemmm" Blinking a few times until the black spots around my vision cleared I tested the waters and glanced up, muzzle tilting ever so slightly back.

Earth and sky remained as they should be, with one on top of the other. Peering at the individual with half closed lids that still had hints of water slipping to darken and already pitch black pelt. I noticed first that he was white, sort of….lids widened further, no, I corrected. More of an ashen grey. His eyes were white though, clear as the undercoat of a does tail and glassy as the moon.

This body must appear as a mess of flesh, feathers and fur. "You there. What ails you?" He remains at a distance, to which I was thankful.

Though lord, he wanted to chat. Why couldn’t they just leave me be to wallow around a little? My breath comes out as a deep groan, ‘leave me alone’, I plead inwardly. But somewhere inside a little voice cries out, ‘No….don’t go.’ “The world ails me elder,” my chin tucks back down, no longer finding care enough to look up any longer, “My brother in arms is dead, as to add to a growing list of recent afflictions this life has blessed me with.”

He responds with a voice that matches appearance in age, I expect a rebuke or perhaps him to find jest in my pain. His thinking is right, and had our positions been switched and I the elder and he the troubled youth. I might not have the patience required for the act of listening to another’s woes, after all I was well aware the world was full of heartache and woe. The only difference was your heartache is that it isn’t the same as mine. But instead of laughing and pointing hoof at my weakness he muses for a moment, commenting facts rather than simply shoving off my concerns like a fly from his quarters.

"Death is...a part of life. And yet I believe that you know this. While this weighs heavy on your heart, tell me youngster, do you only mourn that which is out of your control? Or have you been wronged unjustly in some way?"

He starts off with something that I know all too well and then continues to read into my meanings. AS if he actually cared about knowing what grieved me. Somehow this intrigued me, he was older—certainly wiser with extra years. Suppose I did tell him? Would that lift some weight from this tired heart?

My lips form words absent allowing mind further control over tongue, “Injustice, and war,” I smile weakly, “You would believe me to be a fool, and perhaps I am….but… I have been robbed of myself.” My gaze remains fixed upon the ground, “A man, draped in the colors of blood nearly killed my child and planted a seed of hate in my heart as a parting gift—all of my energy has been spent trying to hunt this same man down. Yet he remains hidden.” Eyes drift up, pitess bottoms staring into the sky empty of emotion and drained of feeling.

“I want to see his death for the pain he inflicted and the innocence that has been stolen. He haunts my steps with each day that I awake and see fresh terror in the eyes of my prodigy.” Dryly I add, "But this...this drive to kill isn't who I am."

"I grow tired of hating a ghost.

This elder appeared to have enough patience to tolerate my woes for at least a little. After I had spoken he stood by, thinking without much expression. Finally the man spoke, “Well now…” I wait, staring at him blankly wondering in the end—would it matter what anyone said? Could something like this be fixed, my soul felt no lighter sharing this information with said company. I give caution and forcefully quiet mind from thinking too far ahead, he hadn’t even spoken a reply and already my heart was shrinking away.

When words did come, ears leaned forward to listen and pick apart each sentence. He used two different possibilities to answer my sorrow, one that made the darkening in my heart quake with pleasure at the possibility that this side could be a permanent part of who I was. The other side, the one that my friends knew, shrank with fear at the possibility. This pale horse suggested that I take action, action against the creature that lay my heart across the ground. Instantly I wanted to add that I had been searching to do just that, yet my search had come up empty as the beast itself had been of emotion; but I said nothing, keeping voice in check behind slacked teeth.

"The real question is, what are you going to do about it?"

Mind whirled round with questions, but at least I wasn’t dizzy anymore from my fall. Legs uncurled, and found earth a little more reliable. After steadying myself, body rises slowly before straightening out. Wings shift back and forth, shaking grime from my feathers. Finally, after a moment more of consideration my voice rises to answer his advice and question, “I do not yet know my course or direction, but I do have questions. If this pure fury was part of my soul, then why do I struggle to accept it? My hunt for him has turned up empty and revenge has yet to be satisfied elder.”

A heavy sigh emerges and my head shakes along the poll and down to my withers to shake away the final pieces of earth that lingered, “For months I have looked, yet he appears as only a ghost in my dreams, the only proof of attack is in memories and the scar upon my child’s breast.”

His words ring true, and I find with each moment that luck must have finally blessed me to find such good council in one of the darker moments in my life. It was true, my mind often did think too much. Having a working mind could be an aid in battle and when it came to handling strategy, or it could be my downfall when pressure proved to apply choke across neck.

We all tried to reason with ourselves, mainly to justify actions when they seemed out of the norm. When control was lost, it was true that most questioned the reason and what they can do to return the control back to its proper position. In that moment, I had lost control; he had took that from me and I wanted it back The question was as it was before, 'how would I go about achieving my desires?'

This elder unicorn speaks more on the matter at hand, giving reasons behind an absent foe. It was very possible “I” wasn’t ready for our confrontation. Truth be told if I saw him in this moment, not heaven nor earth would stop my judgment from raining from heaven. All the magic in the world couldn’t shield him forever. The last part pale company uttered caught me by surprise, >“perhaps it is you who knows he is not yet ready to face this demon again?” The word ‘demon’ ceases heart in chest, I suddenly feel very cold. I wouldn’t say anything in rebuke, because after all that had been said thus far….it could all be true.

I could truly be the demon.

My tone is tired when it finally responses, “Your words are well met and appreciated wise one,” honeyed gaze locks in those bright eyes that held no sight of me, “You shed a little light on dark splotches in my soul, I will mediate these things and pray that it rights itself either by acceptance or his death; with enough time one or the other will happen.” Until then, I would just have to live with it—and lead my soldiers and Cera the best that one could.