Sometimes you don't realize how much you rely on someone's protection until that certain someone is gone from your life.
Azzuen is gone. I can feel his presence grow weaker with each passing day. I used to be able to feel him all around me, as if he was always hovering in the air above my head - just breathing, listening. I knew it was only a matter of time until he was gone from my life entirely. I feel alone now as I navigate through this wasteland of ice. I can feel the chill of winter creep up my bones, sinking into the very marrow. Frost clings to my breath like a curse. My joints ache. My wing has been fractured once again, only this time it was no freak accident, but the hellish intent of a stallion I had the misfortune of encountering. He intruded upon my sanctuary, the last place I could feel that he was still with me.
He attacked my daughter, my child, intent on ending her life. I never knew I was capable of feeling so much disgust for a single being. I never knew I was capable of Hate.
I hate him. He has taken me from my daughters, the last meaningful thing I have to remember him by. I hate him. He left me... left me alone, and...
What is wrong with me. I'm losing myself.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. Azzuen was taken from me.
He left me.
Why did he leave me? We were meant to grow old with one another, watch our children grow into beautiful mares and have children of their own.
Why have the Gods punished me so?
I don't even have the energy to cry. It is not out of sadness. I am angry. I am angry at life, angry at the Gods, angry at Azzuen, angry at this faceless coward of a man who has forced me from my home. I have so much anger. Part of me just wants to surrender, but I know that is selfish and weak. I must be strong, for the sake of my kin, for the sake of my sweet Azzuen...
The clank of metal is such an irksome noise. My muscles are sore from limping. I find it is impossible to walk without one from the restriction of my gait.
Some sort of mechanism has been bound to my foreleg. You see, this stallion, he is some sort of artisan, a manipulator of metal. You don't actually think I'm following him willingly, do you? I already tried to escape, which actually caused my limp in the first place. It would appear that galloping locks the device...
Did I mention how much I hate this bastard?
I groan quietly in anger. My mane hangs in a disheveled heap over my eyes, my head hung low as I watch the back of the bastard's hooves rise and fall. I wonder if he would notice if I just turned and walked away - no negotiation, no hassle. We could forget all about this, forget the part where I was abducted from my home, and I could go back to Cirrus and Azulee. He could resign to whatever hole in the ground he crawled out of and things could be good again - or, at least, as good as they will ever be again, now that am without my dearest companion.
Soon enough the voice of another pierced the air. I didn't realize another had approached us in my inattentiveness, and I jerk my head upward to see her.
She is young - around the same age as Cirrus. A bronze beast prowls at her side. It is not composed of flesh. It's metallic sides glimmer dimly in the smothered sunlight, and I cannot help but feel a hint of curiosity. I observe the exchange between the two quietly, noting that she refers to the Artisan as Ulrik. A noble name for a stallion who seems to severely lack in that department.
A black mare arrives on scene. She wreaks of nobility. I can see it in the way she carries herself, the arrogant lilt to her words, the vain manner in which she lifts her head. Already I do not like her, though it may simply have to do with her association with the stallion. My ears swivel backward momentarily as I watch her eyes scrutinize me. She is a difficult to read, though that does not stop me from trying.
A flash of black against white alerts me to the approach of yet another, more familiar individual. His name eludes me, but those spots... that cold shimmer in his ice blue eyes; how could I forget that?
He utters my name after exchanging a few words of greeting to the others. I say nothing, only avert my gaze, a puff of smoke curling from my nostrils. My expression is one of anger and sadness. I do not wish to be here. The cold does not suit me. I yearn to bask in the warmth of the sun, to feel the golden sand squelched beneath my hooves, to hear the the soft panting of the wind in my ears. I wish to embrace my children, but more than anything else I wish for something I know I will never be delivered - I wish to see Azzuen...
I feel tears burning behind my eyes.
No, I cannot cry now. I cannot let such a weak emotion peak through; not at this moment. There is no time for such things now.
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