This meadow is disorganized. It reeks of a hundred more horses than I have ever seen in one place. It was a good choice for my first foray out of the cove. I had not wanted to leave until my physical strength had grown. Being a child is tiresome. Even now, at a little over a year old, I am still leggier and slimmer than I wish to be. Adulthood creeps towards me at a disgustingly slow pace. I envy Kirin and Nicia in an offhand way.
So many of these creatures are beneath my notice. Not only do they not carry a trace of the great god's blood or favor, they squander the potential of their lives with peace and harmony. So much more is to be learned in strife and pain. My eyes glitter with remembered agony, the gasp of awakening and arousal, the burning touch upon my neck. I crave it and I am willing to stretch my limits. Not one of my subjects has the stamina that I do.
Kult stalks behind me. We are better in pairs, my siblings and I. There are those who would tear us from our exalted place, or think to take advantage of our youth. Both would be grave mistakes. Kult would probably enjoy such an action on another's part. I know I would. A slow smile stretches across my orchid purple features. I imagine with great relish the taking apart of a body as complex as the equine one. Seals are as advanced as I have become in my studies.
I stop briefly and glance at my brother, the bay one. He looks unassuming. It is well that he does, but one would be an idiot to think he has no strengths. I am the flashy one, the one who draws eyes first. It's my role. I distract the prey with a smile. Kult decimates them. And then I pull them apart and learn.
But today, we are both free of blood (although the smell never really leaves us), and reasonably appropriate. Kult seems to be leaving the leading up to me, although his age is greater than mine. Whether by conscious choice or not, he tends to follow. I take control easily, choosing a stallion drinking at a stream, his legs being lapped at by the water.
I approach, brother in tow. My body is young but my eyes are filled with knowledge.
“Hello.” I offer with a touch of amusement. “Kersey, and that is Kult.” I glance at his feet. “Fish seem a poor choice of adversary. They submit far too easily.”
I would know.
the academic executioner
daughter of carnage and killgore