out of the ashes - kavi, bergamont, erebor

[Bergamot]

Bergamot My silence is a roar... Though he was mute and would never utter a sound, Bergamot was born a horse of few words by nature as well as necessity.  As he had grown over the last year, his childish leanings had slowly faded away into a more pragmatic adult way of thinking.  As he emerged at the call of his father there was no question that the palomino boy was Kavi's son.  Of a similar height and with the same lines to their face(though his hazel eyes were his mother's, large and luminous), Bergamot was proving to be a handsome youth.  His arched neck bowed the finely lined face at his cousin, accepting her greeting silently.   The boy was not shy but he was wary, still not always sure when it was appropriate to reveal his flaw and the trait that sometimes made up for it.  In the end, he settled for painting his coat to blend in with the earthy pines that surrounded him.  Along his body the view from the forest floor was visible, a snippet of his trip to where they stood.  Gloom surrounded the looming trees in a haunting but strangely beautiful way.  It was so different from the boisterous Jungle that was full of life, color, and noise.  Bergamot didn't find the quiet of the pines disturbing, it was peaceful and had a mystery and danger to it that he found he wanted to explore and was pleased that his father would be living here so that he might have an excuse to visit.   Before long the boy would have to choose his home.  The Amazons would keep him, if he asked.  But he would never be an equal but a servant.  Bergamot could serve, he could swallow his pride, but he would never abide disrespect or being relegated to the level of 'for breeding purposes and recreation only'.  It occurred to him that being introduced to his extended family was his father's way of guiding him, showing him his options.  But for now the boy would observe politely.   Reaching his nose over to brush against his father's withers he seemed to urge his father to speak, explain.  While he waited for his father to give them the words that he couldn't, he walked towards the dark colt in a friendly and curious way.  They were months apart in age but Bergamot sensed that this child would mature as quickly as he was forced to and if he had the choice, they would be friendly.

Sorry it's all rambly, my brain is mush.