 In another life, in another place, where the sea salt kissed everything within its reach, and the salt grasses swayed outside in the moonlight, Faulkor had often relished his time alone (the herd sleeping, all threats put to rest). Yet, even then, he was never truly without company. He had stuffed his Cavern with stolen mares - some prisoners, some there of their own free will. In the belly of his cave they slumbered through the night. Faulkor had not expected Balto to leave him so soon. In fact, he had not expected Balto to leave him ever. But Faulkor awoke to an emptiness he had not felt since he was newly weaned from his mother’s teat. Alone. Not even the shadows, as thick as they were, could console him with their touch. So, he had gone searching, following the scent of his companion until it had become too muddied with the musk of others to detect further. Fear and then envy cursed the star-strewn stallion’s mind those first few lonely days spent hidden in the forest cave. He had never been a very reasonable character - fueled by passion, hate, and despair more than anything else. Yet, he could not hate Balto. No other had been so loyal to the midnight stallion than his blue companion. Thus, an inkling of hope keeps Faulkor looming at the mouth of their forest cave, obscured by the hanging moss and heavy darkness. He listens to the night sounds for what seems to be eternity shoved into the space of several hours. Light threatens the shadows in the distance, and though it will not reach the depths of the forest for several hours still, Faulkor can feel his skin crawl in revolt. Another night wasted. In his disappointment Faulkor nearly misses the steady rise and fall of breath from beyond the cave’s gaping jaws. Someone hesitates before the shadowy hole. The night is so still here that the scent of the figure eludes him, but the shape is one he knows all too well. But why does he not enter? Faulkor observes his companion for a time, watching as shuddering breaths wrack his sides and his eyes close tight. Something has happened in the time Balto has been gone. Faulkor peels away from the blackness of the cave, the wet, hanging moss running tears down his spine. Balto snorts sharply, seeming to break away from whatever torments haunted him, if only for a moment. Faulkor draws around him, searching his hide for something. He finds it just behind his shoulder - an ugly break in the once virgin skin. He looks to Balto, black eyes searching for answers, though his lips do not ask. |
@[Balto]