He wishes to remain quiet no longer. How many years had he been gone to see the rest of the world? Had his discoveries been worth it? The blue of his eyes are stormier than any sea he had stood aside as she crashed against the earth with such anger that it shook the very homes of the gods. Ragnar had witness birth and the expiration of life at his own hand, Ragnar does not know why she calls to him but he heeds it willingly, passionately only to find nothing of any familiarity.
Beqanna is like an ugly scare upon a beautiful face. Distracting and painful. She had suckled the residents then bled dry when they called for it and still she gave but now, Beqanna had taken back what she had offered so relentlessly.
The stallion stands with a broad back to the very waters from which he had swam, the length of his hair dripping like candle wax across his skin. The hard sapphire eyes revel shamelessly at the change of his former home. There is no mercy in his heart. Strong limbs move him away from the boil of sea waters and towards the dark forest. Ragnar wonders briefly to himself if Beqanna had left anyone alive after her death roll was completed upon her lands.
The autumn brings an explosion of colors to his eyes. The sound of cheerful birds and the rustle of squirrels as they hurry to stock their nourishment are the only signs of life to greet him. He admits to himself that there is a faint scent of equine somewhere buried amongst the decaying leaves. The length of his neck dips so he may better investigate what he believes as the salt of the sea water begins to dry and cling to the pale gold skin.
