Flashes of lightening lit the gray sky above with flames of white as the dark clouds wept due to their deep depression. The stallion’s flaxen main clung to his face and neck as he marched over the grassy plains, his light eyes fixed hollowly upon the deserted landscape as he went. The rain fell lightly but consistently and produced a wonderfully musical sound as it fell upon the heavy metal plates guarding his forelegs and chest. All appeared ordinary and right, but within the noble seeming stallion raged an urge foul enough to churn any principled stomach. An urge he had deemed so hideous that he would travel far from the caring warmth of his family just to keep it a secret. An urge he had no doubt acquired on account of the unusual circumstances surrounding his birth; on account of his trip through the Twisted Tunnel before leaving his mother’s womb. The dark stallion trudged on, appearing less and less regal with each weighted step he took.
The sound of something moving through grass roused the stallion from his trance and he soon took to the sky, his black wings complimenting the sorrowful clouds above. Like a bird of prey he tilted his head toward the earth to search for his next victim, his eyes soon coming to rest upon a wayward coyote desperate to find shelter from the storm. Without thought or hesitation the stallion dove through the air and fell upon the canine with such force that the creature lay dead at Gareth’s feet before it could even decipher what had occurred. Mist-like blue eyes stared hungrily down at the animal, any tenderness or compassion completely masked by a dark desire. Baring two gleaming fangs Gareth’s head dropped to the carcass and he began to tear the flesh at will.
After a while he stumbled away from the maimed flesh, his body wracked with violent dry heaves. The taste of blood upon his tongue caused his stomach to roil and clench with displeasure, and the sight of his work sent a wave of utter disgust washing over him. Turning his face away he squeezed his eyes shut and fought to take a few deep, cleansing breaths. He would not apologize for this nor would he allow himself to become wracked by guilt. He would not invalidate his existence in such a manner. Folding his legs beneath his body, he lowered himself to the ground and allowed the cool rain to soothe his nausea. It would soon be time for him to return home and play the role of a perfectly average son and brother.
Baby Pandah
