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Potential.

A word that rang with meaning, life flowing through it like hot water running beneath the ground, where the earth was molten and burned in liquid trails that only a Skinwalker dared contemplate. It was every bit as much a part of the young foals that Maeryn had often seen from her vantage point, high up on a rocky outcropping. She was old; her bones ached, her joints creaked. When she looked at the world, she saw the good old days, when she had been young and spry. Now she was old and still spry, but brittle.

The time of pure Kalona had nearly spent itself away on the Soquili lands, her herd one of few remnants of a proud age. Where would she find successors, young ones to fill the hoof prints of those that had gone before? Her own children were aging. She knew it in her bones, down to her core. They would have to bring new life into this world, but alone they were nothing more than the beating of a great drum, sounding the death of a race.

She would not live to see that death. She would not. Instead, she had committed herself to bringing new life to a dwindling breed, a breed that, just as she, was dying. It was the long, slow death of attrition. Year after year eroded away this or that stallion, this or that mare. Those she had once called friends-- allies, more like-- had faded away to a distant chattering. They were as old and dry as she.

And Rot, her dear, dear Rot... was dead. Maeryn's heart had hardened itself, and she forced a chill to take over what had been passion. Skinwalkers would chew away at their numbers until there was nothing left of them at all. She would not stand idly by and allow such a thing to happen. To that end, it was high time that she return to her hunting habits in full force. She was out of practice, but still strong. She knew the trails well.

Opening her wings, the small black mare took to the air, and soared high above, searching for prey on the ground below. ... There. A deer, an old buck who was, like Maeryn, long since past his prime. She would take him down. Diving down like a falcon, she waited to unfurl her wings until the very last possible moment, and they opened with an audible snap. The buck was startled, but it was too late.

When her hooves hit his neck, they broke it. She let him fall to the ground, and then buried her muzzle in his still warm flesh. It had been too long, far too long since her last kill. She was growing lazy with her grief. That would not do. How else would she face the Skinwalkers who had taken the Protector of the Black Skull Herd from his family if she was not in fighting shape? Out of shape, out of practice, it was no excuse. She fed, tail lashing like an angry feline, a snarl on her lips.

Hӓxan's life was a typical one for a Kalona. It was a common practice among Kalona to leave their foals to fend for themselves. If they did not survive, then they were not fit to go on to one day have foals of their own, contributing to what was really quite a small population. They were quite selective about such things. Maeryn herself had met a similar fate as a foal, though not because her sire and dam had wanted it for her. There had been shrill whinnies, and screams, and much blood.

That was all that she remembered, beyond strong legs that had caged around her, protecting her while the battle raged on. She did not remember her siblings. She could not be sure that any had survived to foalhood, and if they had survived, she did not miss them. She had never met them. She remembered the taste of warm milk, and the soft brush of a loving nose.

Beyond that... she remembered very well what it had been like to make her way in the world, a lone Kalona foal with no herd to hide behind. Slowly, she had developed an aversion to the Soquili that drove her from their herds, from their lands. They became 'lessers', and Maeryn had quite a disgust and disdain for them. Kalona would not easily accept a foal into their midst, but they were strong. That was acceptable.

Standing over her kill, tail swaying gently back and forth, Maeryn's muzzle was covered in blood. The buck, though old, had been quite impressive, and she was enjoying a feast that she rarely indulged in. A sound alerted her to another's presence, and her ears flicked forward, standing at attention. She did not move for a long moment, possessive of her kill.

The scent of blood nearly overpowered all others, and she waited, listening for further sounds. Footsteps came, and then halted. Interesting. Had it been another predator, the black mare would have expected an interruption, perhaps competition for the kill. This was usual, and to be expected. So, perhaps her watcher was a lesser. Ech.

But the scent that wafted to her on the wind was not that of a lesser. She heard the flapping of leathery wings, and an ear swiveled in that direction. Clearly, Maeryn was used to using her sense of hearing to track what her nose and eyes could not. She continued to enjoy her meal for a moment, before she decided that it was high time that she acknowledged the intrusion.

She brought her head up, and took note of the foal who stood before her, a question already voiced. "I did. It is always best to kill from above-- it saves quite a lot of time and effort." Killing from above had always been her way, though it was not how she fought. It was an effective method for protecting one's herd, and hunting, but less so in a confrontation. "Not the first kill you have seen, I take it?" Perhaps he had even made similar kills himself?

It was rude to eat while another watched, and while ordinarily Maeryn would not have minded being rude, this was a Kalona foal. She wanted every young Kalona to grow up to be healthy and strong. So, with a slight flick of her tail, she regarded the colt. "You are welcome to share my meal," the black mare offered, taking note of the youngster's manners. He had waited until she had ceased talking to speak; clearly this young Kalona knew the value of being respectful to his elders. Maeryn approved of that. Interesting how silent and still he was being, with a poise that few of his age possessed.

She felt... warmed by his decision to stay around and confer with her. She folded her wings onto her back and considered her words carefully. "It is natural that at your age your prey is smaller than this. One day, however, you too will find yourself taking down bucks and the like. We are very well designed for that sort of thing, after all." It was the hooves that particularly made them well suited to it. Attacking from above as she did, a single strike with those deadly hooves could easily break a deer's neck.

Maeryn had seen birds do something very similar. She had been impressed when she had first observed it as a foal. Using that technique, they could even take down prey larger than themselves. The same was true for Kalona. "Truth be told, if you master this technique it may not be long at all before you take down your first deer. Have you practiced aerial hunting much?" she asked him, leaning down to nibble on the buck again. Since she had offered to share with him, she felt perfectly justified about doing so.