I wake before the sun, in the sullen gray of dawn. I had bedded down in the relative safety of the Ruins for some time now and last night was no different. While it is not an entirely deserted piece of the common lands, it is one of the least frequented places in Beqanna, a factor at the top of my list when considering where to ‘skulk’, as Set would say. The singular advantage of populated areas is that I can usually spend time seeking out magicks, familiarizing myself with the myriad of them as best I can from a distance. My mane and forelock are still growing back from a recent experiment with fire-breathing, the ends pale, curled and breaking off. I keep to myself in order to avoid Niklas and his lot as best I can. While I have no doubt that they can find me easily should they care to, I still find some semblance of comfort in my solitude. I do what I can to protect myself, honing my defenses as I can, and they’ve left me be for nearly two seasons now. I am far from grown but also no longer the beaten, defenseless colt Dretch had quite literally dragged home, covered in lice, skin and bones ...

The air is damp with springtime humidity. The stretch of river I’m bound for is no longer high and swollen with the melting snow of kingdoms and territories further north; in fact, it’s particularly slow here, where it bends away from the Forest before gathering speed for its final push toward Baltia. It is one of my favorite spots and maybe I frequent it too much but I cannot bring myself to break the habit. The woods echo with birdsong as the sun finally makes an appearance above the trees, weak shafts of light catching on the scruffy golden bay of my coat. With nowhere to be and no one to answer to, I stop just inside the treeline, still and waiting for so long my legs begin to tingle from the lack of circulation. Just as suddenly as I’d stopped, I start again, eventually picking my way down the bank and wading into the shallows.

I am what I think is content for the first time in my life as far as I can remember ... and this feeling has me on edge enough that my nights are fitful and my stomach frequently in knots. Knee deep, I drink my fill, always listening for changes in my surroundings. A fish bumps against my leg and I flinch, freezing before letting out tendrils of my particular brand of magic to probe at what I cannot see. Just a regular, normal fish. When I raise my head, water dripping from my dark chin, I watch the forest's shadows with suspicion.

I know well the sensation of being hunted.

It starts off imperceptible to all but the most attuned to those sorts of things; those accustomed to being prey. The best hunters make no sound as they stalk but the hunted who stays alert can taste it on their breath – - metallic and earthy. It tic-tacs down your spine and snakes between your flesh and hide, thud-thudding along with your heartbeat; and your blood begins to hum with adrenaline, low and buzzing at first, then a flood of limb-aching dread. That basic instinct to survive stirred to life in the clench of your gut and the sudden dryness of your mouth. Do you stand your ground or take a chance and flee? Down either path lies uncertainty. How I despise not knowing.

I do my best to give off a nonchalant air, dipping my mouth to the river’s surface again and weighing the surrounding forest and my options. The water and woods are still quiet, save for the usual sounds of morning as the earth stirs to life, but I know something - someone - is out there. Has Set finally found another use for me? Has he sent Niklas to drag me back kicking and screaming to do the capricious magician’s bidding? They know I won’t be so easy to bend this time. Bent. Not broken. I will keep telling myself that until … well, until I no longer have to, I guess.

I carefully start to move further downstream, at the same time angling away from the bank. I go slow, the footing uncertain, the slow waters here murkier the deeper I get. I’m not particularly adept in the water, but I reason the more water between myself and whatever is out there, the better. I only make it a few steps before my coat begins to turn black, the light brown fading rapidly as panther fur burns its way across my body. He’s found me. If it were a normal panther, my magic wouldn’t have latched on to it … For all my bravado, I have only just learned the depths of my powers and I have little experience in wielding it. Typically, it wields me. Like now. Panic clogs my throat. All the confidence I’ve gained these past few months melts away in the span of a breath. All I can think is how Set’s found me and I’m not ready to face him yet. But face him I do.

I whirl on him with a strangled yowl, caught somewhere between horse and cat, mustering as much ferocity as I can though my sides heave with the effort and I fear my heart is going to tear through my ribcage. “I hope you choke!” I snarl. It’s the best I can come up with, swallowing hard to steady my voice, lashing my panther-flanks with my own tail, clutching the river bed with thick, furred paws. My skin crawls with the disjointed feeling, but I don’t dare take my focus off the woods.