Locke
There are times when opportunities literally fall before your hooves, but Locke never thought that meant literally. Until now.
The first he heard it was a sound of a drum, like thunder on the wind at a distance. Perhaps foolishly, the act of weary traveler dropped like a cloak unnoticed to the ground as his head tossed upwards to search the skies. There! The blurry dark spot had an advertisement of ruptured clouds torn to shreds around it. And just as soon as he noticed, it winked out, leaving the clouds to make their own excuses. Snorting in distrust of his senses Locke hesitates. It was normal...had to be…
Magic. Surely. It wasn’t unknown to him. Kalhir had had its own- Gods. When had he last thought that name out. Here he was trying to start fresh, let it go, see the light, go into the unknown or whatever mantra of rebirth you wanted to attach to the age of notion of the naive. It was the roll of his eye and shoulder, resetting his mind after that unpleasant reminder, that he caught the movement. The movement, dropping-no, falling. Tilting his head back the other way he watches. Down, down, down. Like a cast curse it was driven from the heavens. Then- there!
It landed farther ahead. Weight shifted in our watcher. Most might walk away. Raised brow looks to his left. Some might see the rupturing of the heavens and the rejection of some item as a sign to sell out and move on. There was no one to his left, and he looks to the right. Some might take cover or fall prey to hidden fear by excusing themselves to run away and tell others. There was no one to his right either, so he looks forward where a dark shape dented the white sheets. Some might know better. Amusement raises with his hoof as he steps forward. But Locke, for all his lessons learned and street smarts still suffered one possibly fatal flaw. He was curious.
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Damn. It wasn’t just some by-gone relic. It was a horse. Strewn in the snow, and seeming both one with the snow and isolated in violet, it was undoubtedly a horse. His gut twisted, not for the blood or damage mind you (He’d seen worse, been worse, and done worse. He bore the three scars on his chest to prove it.) but for the civic notion that as the only witness he now bore responsibility. It soured worse on his tongue than the smell of injury surrounding the fallen.
So he moved to back away uneasily, as any mortal still savoring the breath in their lungs usually does at the site of someone else who has taken their last. It wasn’t that the youth was fearful, but rather he knew dead bodies were like flies for questions and who the hell was going to believe this poor unfortunate soul fell from high in the sky. They’d be calling other things high, and he doubted it would have anything to do with altitude. Yet just as he was turning away, just as his chained ear rattled to follow his thoughts to the path ahead, it caught backwards on the body. Tugged like a string. Curiosity snagging the thief again, asking questions that lead to trouble rather than away. He could check the body for...identification… or valuables.
After a few more side glances, the young opportunist slunk closer to his quarry. A necklace? Leg cuff? Hair ties of metal? Greed danced in his eyes making him almost miss the fact that there was in fact nothing. Ears pin back in accusation, but the creature bore nothing- except for life. A breath, however damaged by the fall, rises in the heaven cast out. Drawing back away from the asp of possible complication, the guilty youth ground his teeth. Should have walked away. “Shit.” came the hissing whisper.
He could still walk away. Locke could whistle a merry tune and take this wracked body as a heaven sent lesson not to anger the gods of this land. He could turn away, so he told himself, and surely in an hour or … day someone would show up to help this creature. Surely. His curiosity was well and truly satisfied (so he lied to himself). Time to ship out and hold to what he should have before: that this could lead nowhere but to questions he didn’t have answers to, nor was he sure he wanted. But where Locke’s curiosity failed, his one raw heart string held solid in some regrettable horse-anity. Could he leave this defenseless creature just to die in the cold wilds? (Well this lands own gods didn’t want him.) Could he be cold enough to be blind to the dream shadow of this creature in his sleep tonight? (He had enough nightmares what was one more?) Did this creature deserve to die?
“Hey!” A white spotted nose attempted to toss snow onto the creature’s face. “Hey- Wake up.” It felt wrong. Awkward, stupid. Worse than a tailor’s first attempt at a ballgown. It kept the young thief’s ears back and face tense, though the humor of before was still hidden in his light manner. Still, when he woke this son of the sky up, Locke was going to take upon himself to kill him for dragging of all things, guilt out of him.
No, don’t underestimate Locke. Even he didn’t dare dream he would be adding ‘savior’ to the list of future prospects created by our tale earlier.
OOC:: @Silasthein Sorry for your wait! I can't wait to read more of him! Also I wrote a novel, please do not feel you need to match!
