(SRP of a soq (official WIP) -- earned in the 2014 Carousel Event)
The wind was strong here, buffeting him with every delicate step, but thankfully not as dangerous as the valley below. Icy air bit at his flesh and settled deep in his bones, seeming to pass straight through his short coat and hair without managing to numb his burning muscles. He took another step up the slope, heaving his weight forward, but the stones beneath cracked and fell away. Then a different kind chill ran down the stallion's spine, his heart stopping for a brief moment until he scrambled back to regain his balance. His breaths were deep and labored, lungs aching as the air he exhaled instantly crystallized into flecks of frost that hung about his face, but the raging winds tore air from him almost as quickly as he could claim it. His throat and mouth burned with thirst, pain compounded by the cold. If he did not find a thawed creek or reach his destination soon, he would be reduced to lapping up the snow and ice that glazed the rocks.
Despite himself, he grimaced in disgust, but there was no living creature around to see. If only his doves were with him... He thought of them wistfully, somehow a little angry that he left them behind to walk the pass alone, but it was better this way. His wings, large as they were, felt frozen stiff where they normally felt hotter than the rest of his body. He experimentally stretched the muscles of one wing, but it barely twitched. His poor birds would have met well-preserved deaths in these mountains if he had brought them home with him.
Home. The word sounded almost foreign. What a strange home this land was, and what a strange feeling to see it for the first time. He had heard that this land's cold season was worse than the ones he had grown up with back in the far east, where snow was a rare delight. Perhaps he should have realized it sooner -- his father, with his luxurious long coat unsuitable for the warmth of his lover's homeland, had clearly come from colder regions. Unfortunately, he had not inherited it.
The moon was just beginning to rise as he reached the range's tallest peak, bruised and battered. He staggered onto the ground, but took care not to tangle the shining waves of his mane. The unforgiving terrain has been unable to steal away his luster -- yet -- but many times he had fallen over jagged stones or slipped on the glassy sheets of ice that covered the uneven path winding around the mountain. Small cuts and dark patches stung his legs and sides and marred his pristine white coat with blood and dusty soil. He could hardly believe himself, could scarcely believe he would undertake such a foolhardy and dangerous thing that damaged his body most of all, but it finally seemed the journey would be over soon. He hoped it would be worth it.
Laying on his side in the snow, he watched the blue winter's moon that sat on the far horizon, seeming much larger than usual in the clear starlit sky. What the old mare had told him was true, then. He frowned, remembering; strangely, the hag had not called him by his name, Elros, but had called him Aldebaran. Maybe there had been truth to what she said, claiming to know the secrets of his family, but she had asked for a steep price. Still, it was a risk he had to take. If there were others, he needed to find them and quickly.
But not so soon, not now... The frozen ground beneath him almost felt comfortable. It was nothing like the luxurious silks he had once slept in every night, but his muscles begged for even this small mercy.
With every heaving breath, his starry sides shimmered in the moonlight. If he slept here, he might not wake. He knew that. But it was cold, he was exhausted and aching... surely he could close his eyes for just a little while.
