It mocked him, the childish voice. Repeating his inquiring words, and yet lacking the true questioning tone that his words had contained. They were mocking and teasing, yet Apollo’s honey-brown eyes remained upon the black petals of the flower, his body shuddering involuntarily at the voice that caressed around his ears. Before his very eyes, red liquid began to drip down the petals, almost resembling blood… The thought made his throat clench in disgust, nostrils widening as he sucked in a deep breath of air.

What was this thing? It was much more than just a simple, black rose.

Suddenly, however, a breeze pushed past him, whipping the ebony strands of his mane away from his neck and causing the painted stallion to backpedal a few steps, eyes widening in fear. What was going on? The breeze picked up, whooshing upwards, and the medic stood still for a few moments before lifting his head, spotting the wrought iron gate merely feet from above his head. Apollo had little time to figure out what to do before a riddle echoed through the air. Riddles? Oh, blast… He was terrible at riddles.

His thoughts raced, trying frantically to figure out just what it was that the rose spoke of. Black… And misfortune?

’A black cat is what you speak of.’

Suddenly, a voice echoed through the woods, one that didn’t belong to him or the creepy black rose. His head turned slightly, and what he saw surprised him. Was that… A winged colt? And a horned filly? The colt, however, looked like he possessed nearly none of the fear that the stallion was grasped by. What were they doing here?

”What are you two doing here?” He asked, fearful. Couldn’t they see that it was potentially dangerous for ones so young to be around here? Neither of their scents were familiar, so it was obvious that they weren’t apart of the Grey, or of the forest itself…

Yet… Beneath that question came the realization that yes, the colt was right. A black cat did fit the description of what the rose was speaking about. How could he not have realized? Swallowing thickly, the overo turned his head back to the rose, then glanced upwards at the gate still resting ominously over his very head. What was going to happen? Was it going to drop on him…?

I can never fight for myself, but, for others, I can kill."