Serren had to admit that his young uncles were a rather…strange lot. He wasn’t one to judge; in fact, he considered himself one of the least judgmental stallions he’d ever met, because everyone had good in them. But Tavarii’s new batch of kids were…different, to put it lightly. It didn’t mean that his grandpa loved them any less, even with the kalona blood running hot through their veins, even with the Hallow’s Eve mutations twisting their features into rather fierce things. No. Tavarii seemed happy for the first time in a long time and Serren was happy for him. Children were such a blessing--even if his own kids were sassy little rebels. He loved them.
Cinneidigh and Cedric grew up mostly normal and were starting to carry on fully capable adult lives--even if it meant they ate meat--but their little brother Ciaran? Kind of enough to give even a fearless stallion like Serren the heebie-jeebies.
X
The sun was high in the sky, beaming warmth down on the patch of grass, melting away the winter’s snow and it was a curious event. Ciaran--at this point, mostly grown, but lanky and leggy and awkward with huge wings and broad shoulders--stood peering down at a lump of dirty snow as it slowly dripped away into the mud, ceasing to exist. His pale, pupilless eyes glared holes into the snowbank as if his eyes had lasers attached to them. Drip. Drip. Drip. He sidestepped, snorting, looking over his shoulder…just in case they came. The shadows. They were hunting him, but… His dark hair fell over his face as he lowered his muzzle to the snow, licking at the coldness. Head tipping to one side, almost painfully so, like a curious wolf listening to the whispers of the forest. And he was hearing whispers, twisty-turny words that spiraled through his skull, taunting him, laughing and snorting and teasing.
With a snort, Ciaran’s ears pinned and he struck at the snow patch with both hooves, ripping at it until snow began to fly, mud splashing up on his hooves and upper legs in his attempt to banish the screaming in his skull. “Shut up! Shut up!”
X
The hair at the back of Serren’s neck spiked to attention at the sudden screaming coming from the fields. Hesitating only for a moment--because what if his family was in trouble--he galloped as quick as he could, dread suddenly mounting in his chest, a feeling of heaviness because the brightly colored orange kalona shook him. He was just so unpredictable.
And sure enough, Ciaran was attacking a small bank of snow with all that he was, tail lashing, fangs bared. “Ciaran?” he barked out, straightening up as he moved a little closer, wings readying to take flight if needed. Sometimes he didn’t protect Tavarii’s youngest with his mother, with his family herd… It scared him because if Ciaran could flip s**t over nothing, what would happen if someone like his mother angered him? Would he kill her?
X
The voices suddenly cut out, leaving him with nothing--dead silence. He couldn’t hear the birds, couldn’t bring in the simple sounds of nature surrounding him and fear spiked through him. He spun around, ears pinned and fangs bared, coming up short when he saw the familiar face of a relative bearing the dusky purple coat, the red butterflies, the creamy feathers. He blinked several times, glancing between Serren and the snow back that had offended him as the sounds began to ease back into his mind.
“I couldn’t stop it,” he said quickly, hushedly. Heartbeat racing, he circled the now-dead snowbank covered with muddy hoofprints, tail lashing back and forth. He looked at Serren, his eyes suddenly worried. “The voices, they wouldn’t stop and I couldn’t breathe…” he murmured, sidestepping away from the muddy patch of ground, his big body bumping into his ”uncle” completely unaware of Serren’s nervousness around him. He didn’t pick up on things like that. He just really wanted comfort, so he pushed his big head under Serren’s wing and shuddered. “I’m sorry, sorry. Sorry… Dad says the voices aren’t real. That it’s my imagination, but…”
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