He didn't have a name, not at first. The warm body that might have been his mother vanished within days of his birth from his basket, his memory of her fading along with the warm breezes of summer without giving him one.
Young, fragile, and terribly exposed, he'd sought what shelter and sustenance he could on instinct alone. Water was far from what he needed in his first formative moments, but it was what he could get. With legs too long and woobly to be much use and wings that only added to his off-balanced gaits, he hobbled where he needed to go.
As luck would have it, however, he had been birthed in a relatively peaceful glade. Water was abundant in an all-season stream, and there was a wide variety of grasses and wild fruits for him to eat. Predators were few, or at least the standard issue variety were hard to come by. The lone bear or wolf tended to be a familiar just passing through; their concern for his well-being short lived once they got a clear look at him.
At first, the black colt didn't think anything of his lot in life. Caught in the circle of eat or be eaten, he put every ounce of effort into just surviving to see the next dawn. He had no knowledge of the cycle of the seasons, nor of what was coming as the air around him cooled down and the abundant grasses and fruits became scarce. He only knew the pain of a belly grown tight from lack of sustenance, and a real fear of leaving his glade out of worry that ... even now... that warm presence he'd sensed in his first days might come back for him.
Weeks turned into months, and still he remained in his gradually hibernating glade. Starvation began to get the better of him, as he found it harder and harder to seek out the remaining leaves and succulent roots. Visions of plants and animals that weren't there swam before his eyes more often than not.
The first fateful afternoon that he finally encountered his own 'kind' began much the same as any of those visions.
First, the shadows that moved. Like a tree in a stiff breeze, they waved and joined one another before separating and growing larger. Closing in on him, he only stared at them blankly, wondering what they would remind him of this time ... at least, he had until the first kick sent him flying into the underbrush.
"MONSTER!" The sound ... he knew it meant trouble, though he didn't know why. The pain was unbearable, though the weakness in his body kept him from avoiding the second, third, or even the fourth blows.
"Please, just die..." Now his swimming vision reconciled onto a face not unlike the reflection that had stared back up at him from the stream. Water leaked from the corners of eyes much larger than his, streaming down a jawline to land on his muzzle. Blinking, he stared up at the face, uncomprehending.
"By the Wind Horse.... he can't even speak! What monstrous tragedy has your daughter brought on us? A second voice, this time with a tone that felt like it matched the weight behind the kicks. "End him, now!
"But Alpha .... he's....NO WAIT!
Another series of blows sent him skidding across the glade after lifting him up the length of his foreleg off the ground. "I WILL NOT HAVE THIS! If you will not, then I WILL!" The voice ... it was clearly a threat, and this pain was no vision. Feebly he tried to get to his feet, to flee, but he was beaten down again.
"Stay down, monster! I'll make this quick!" He still didn't understand, but his blood was racing. The heavy scent in the air was thick and smelled clearly of iron. Blood, his. How he knew that he wasn't sure, but it was that same instinct that drive him sideways and out of harms way when the unicorn stallion's driving hooves sought his head.
ALPHA, STOP! The visions joined, the watery face inserting himself between the threat at the black colt. Instinct took hold then, recognizing an outlet for escape and taking it as his blood sang.
Pushing his feeble legs, the black colt ran. Behind him, he could hear the underbrush moving as the shadows ... no... the soquili gave chase. Inside, his blood throbbed and pushed, egging him on. Go faster. It sang, the wind caressing cheeks wet with mingled tears and blood. Faster ... he would run faster. He had to!
Behind him, his pursuers fell farther back as they fought against the thick underbrush. Sliding effortlessly beneath the thickest brambles, the black colt finally gave them the slip entirely. Collapsing after he could run no more, the colt slid against the trunk of an aged oak and closed his eyes.
If he was lucky, he wouldn't open them again.
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TBC
