Hallbjorn found himself unimpressed with much of the world around him. Those within his own herd didn’t receive this same view. At least not all of them. Thanks to his grandmother’s spread genes, at least a good enough number of them were sporting pale coats. All those he’d seen outside the herd had darker coats. Those within his own family lines also did. The only ones who seemed worthy enough were his other grandparents. Not ideal, but they set the standard of what he would accept as a max. All their children and all but one grandchild were the beautiful pale Hall so dearly cherished. If only he could find a family like this where everyone was pale.
Alas, it was not to be. There were no pure white beings such as him. All of them were marked by some sort of pattern that ruined the majesty of the white coat. A white coat must be pure. Untainted. Like his. The grey at the bottoms of his legs were nothing. Another shade of the pure white. Not corrupted. Just darker.
Thus, Hall and only Hall was the perfect specimen. For what, though, he wasn’t yet sure. He was certain however he would be shown when the time was right. After all, he was still just a youngster. Stuck in that awkward stage between adult and foal. The perfect age to be shown the way.
Hall was unaware he wasn’t alone until she was nearly upon him. A shadow to one side of him suddenly moved and he found himself nearly trampled by a taller figure in a black cloak. It seemed to have not seen him, either, for the figure recoiled at the sight of him, stepping backwards quickly enough that the hood fell away. What was underneath caught his breath for a moment.
The teenager stared up into the face of a beautiful mare with a face as white as a swan’s feathers. The only thing marring her face was what looked like bloody trails down her eyes and mouth. Like she was hurt. Like some captive who had escaped under the shadow of the hood. He caught himself staring, struck by the pure beauty of her and the strangeness by which she covered herself.
Without saying a word, the mare trotted away, swift and graceful as a deer startled on the trail. Before he could go after her, she had simply disappeared. He tried to find her as the sun set, but she seemed to have left no trail. It was as he was turning to go back the other way, back towards his herd’s property, when a whisper of sound came behind him and something struck his back. The feeling that followed was a mixture of exhaustion and pain in the struck area. One minute he was standing. The next he was on the ground, unconscious.
The colt awoke only minutes later, feeling hard wood beneath his legs in place of the dirt and grass before he had passed out. The realization made him bolt up, senses alert for some hostile attack that never came. Surely he had been kidnapped and brought to this strange new place that was covered in smooth wood and walled in like a cave. Only it wasn’t a cave. Caves were damp. This was warm, with various fabrics hanging about the walls. But it was silent like a cave. Not even the movement of little critters could be heard.
But it was not a cave. It was a structure he was not accustomed to. It smelled of wood, which he was of course used to. But it was not a forest. Forests didn’t cut themselves up and form around you top, bottom, and around the sides.
His hooves clicked on the floor as he turned around, spying a section of the wall that was different than the rest. He approached it, more out of curiosity than knowledge of what it was or even an idea of it. As he got closer, he heard a shuffling to one side. Horn drawn down, he turned quickly, stepping slowly towards the noise in a bundle of cloth.
Before he could thrust the sharp tip into the bundle, it shifted to reveal a white face, the eyes framed by a spread forelock. The face was familiar, though not anyone Hall personally knew. It was the same mare he had almost bumped into in the woods. Whoever had grabbed him must have found her, as well.
“How—“ he had started to say, when the pale mare shot up out of the clothes and took hold of his black mane with her front teeth, pulling him back down with her.
“Please no,” she whispered in a soft voice, letting go of his mane and spitting out the leftover strands. She pulled the cloth back over herself, urging him to do the same. “She might be nearby. Or one of the others.”
“Who?”
“You must be still. Both voice and body."
“Have we been kidnapped? Is there someone harming you?”
“That is not important. I must get you back to the real world. Or, at the very least, keep you from their grasp.”
“Who?!” Hall found his patience slipping with this mare, so much so he nearly yelled the last question. She kicked him in the foreleg. Not known for his patience at this age, Hall merely glowered at her and rose, despite her pleading to stay down.
There were the sounds of a breeze coming into the room suddenly and he turned his head, just as a shape appeared and the strange world around him went black once more.
