Dark hooves beating across the ground rhythmically, ebony mane and tail flowing behind him with the wind from his run, wings folded against his side, the stallion carried forward through the lands. The winter air was biting, cold. It frosted the hairs on his muzzle white, a stark contrast to the deep black that covered all but his brilliant blue eyes and the horns upon his head. He stood out here, a black patch among a sea of white and green. He was in the forest, the setting sun tinting the snow hues of indigo and crimson. This land was new, strange to him, and something, perhaps it was a scent in the air, the sounds, a feeling that crawled under his skin, but he could tell it was different.
Slowing his footsteps to a two-beat trot he continued forward. Now he could scent the water, cold and icy, buried in the aromas of pine, earth and snow, but he could tell it was near. Slowing again to a walk, he moved forward, huffing, the icy breath upon his muzzle turning to warm mist in the air. Lowing his head, he took a drink of the icy water, silently. It was cold, but the movement in the water, flowing ever towards the ocean left some of it for those who thirsted for a drink. Snorting, he took several gulps, ears flickering, listening for noise in the surrounding forest. He was in unfamiliar territory, he was in a new land, and he was on the alert. There could be danger anywhere, and he did not want to be off his guard. Dusk was when animals hunted, and he had no plans to become someone's snack.
Raising his head again, thirst quenched, he scanned the area, the dusk almost turned night now. He should find shelter. He could figure out where he was tomorrow.
Notes: I hope this was alright... Also no posting table for this boy yet xD Word Count: 312
The snow was beginning to fall when he reached the forest, small, soft white flakes drifting from the sky. There was the promise of a storm on the wind, as if Delumine was determined to erase his footsteps from its meadows as he left. It made his heart feel strangely heavy, its beat slow and mournful in his chest.
Odet drifted ahead of him on blue wings, his path weaving back and forth between trees. For once his bonded was silent; there were no words of critique nor caution. He wasn’t even quietly brooding in disappointment. Only a quiet contentment drifted through their bond, and Ipomoea got the sense that the songbird was even proud of him. At least I have you, his thoughts whispered to the bird. I don’t know what I’d do otherwise.
Flower petals were floating in the wind behind him, a constant trail wherever he went. Soon enough they, too, would be overturned by snow, or scattered by the wind, or rot away to dust. But they were strangely vibrant on the forest path, as if they were the only bright thing left in the world. It was too bad he was walking away from them, that they were left in his wake instead of appearing before him.
He could hear the river bubbling in the distance, turning towards it by instinct. It was getting dark out he knew, but he wouldn’t use that as an excuse to turn back or stop. He had places to be.
But when the river came into view, so too did a large black stallion, with wings of obsidian and metallic gold horns. His own wings, so small and fragile in comparison, fluttered self-consciously at his ankles. But the stranger didn’t look particularly aggressive - not yet, of course his mind cautioned.
“Oh, hello,” he said softly, coming to an abrupt stop. He hadn’t expected to see anyone so far from the Court - the forest had been eerily quiet for weeks now, since the fires, and the murders…
