Kreios
wildcat of the falls
The night stretches on around us, dark and quiet. In the distance, the waterfall echoes, and nearer is the quiet chatter of the herd that Archam is beginning to assemble in our kingdom. I’ve met a few of the mares, and most of them seem to be meek little creatures. Not kingdom material, I have thought, but I am wary of disrupting the most populous residency that this kingdom has seen in decades.
I am thinking of none of that now.
I feel the vibration of Ygritte’s laugh against the thin skin at my throat, and pull away with a chuckle of my own, and a tug at her salmon pink mane. I’ve always been fascinated by the color – it is so very not natural. There is a plethora of patterns and spots in my family, but they are markings of the natural kind – tobiano, sabino, skewbald, appaloosa. She is a color I’ve only ever seen in the bear-flayed sides of the fish that swim up the waterfall every winter.
“Where did this come from?” I ask, nibbling playfully at the pink strands of her man that I’ve not yet dropped. “Your father was many things, but he was not nearly this colorful.” I smile, the memory of the old stallion coming at his mention. I’m not certain where he’s gone, but I’m sure he’s happier there. “Did you run into a fairy, perhaps?” That’s how I’d ended up with my own talents, of course; the strange feline traits I possessed were not inherited from either side of my family.
i’m screaming the name of a foreigner’s god