Though Maugrim enjoys being secluded in the darkness and dampness of the forest floor, trying to hide among the underbrush and dirt like a serpent – there is one thing that draws him out into the open.
The young colt is nearly chest deep in the water of the still pond, calm and comfortable as the water periodically laps over his back as he walks absentmindedly on soft hooves. The muck at the bottom does not bother him and neither does the dark depths of the pond. It goes deeper, but he dare not go any further – at least not yet. He’s able to stare down at his watery reflection, rippling gently as he stirs the water. From a distance, it appears that the dark green and lavender splashed colt was merely enjoying a summertime swim.
But for Maugrim, it was so much more.
His affinity for water was nearly instantaneous with his birth. He was always drawn to it for reasons he hadn’t really known when he was just a few days old. But as he grew, month by month, he began to realize that the water was not only something that soothed him – but it was something that could be controlled by him.
And how he loved to be in control.
For such a young boy, he never felt weak. He knew his power, his ability to manipulate the water around him to do his bidding. Maugrim’s most recent hobby was bringing a strand of water from its source and dragging small animals (tiny birds, lizards and other useless things) back into its depths. He liked the bubbles.
Today, though, he was not quite bored enough to resort to his normal playthings. This was a new pond in a new place, and he was experimenting with the new depths. The water churns around him rapidly, though the colt is barely moving. There is a slight grin on his face (though it would easily disappear, like usual) as he watches, concentrating. The water bubbles and froths furiously, as if being controlled by the colt was causing the liquid itself to be angry. Maugrim’s smile falters as he furrows his brow, focusing. A spot in the water domes upwards, as if something were about to break its surface. He tries to will the water to stretch out in an arm from the pond, but it doesn’t get very far before it falls back with a dull plop.
Angry, the water bubbles as his face twists with rage. For a moment the water seems to try and get away from him, pushing it away with his mind.
Grumbling, Maugrim returns to shore with a heavy walk. Emerging from the water, he doesn’t attempt to shake off the droplets. Instead he lets the water hang on his coat, weighing him down as he stands on the shoreline, the water running in rivulets down his small chest and body, pooling around his tiny hooves. His plan now was to head back into the darkness of the forest and remain unseen until he was willing to try again.
m a u g r i m.