Kreios
wildcat of the falls
Walking the border is second nature to me now, each tree and path as familiar to me as those of the Dale and the Desert. More familiar, truly, for the memories of my childhood homes have begun to fade with time. My trip to the Dale had been too short, and I am still – for many reasons – hesitant to return to the Desert.
So when the familiar scent of sand and limestone drifts through the summer warmth of the Falls, there is a momentary clench of anxiety at my heart. It passes briefly, or at least I suppress it quickly. Letting out a nicker to call Raene closer to me, I head toward the source of the smell, and soon hear a summons. I know that voice.
“We’re about to meet your uncle,” I tell the young filly that trots at my side. She wears my spots and her mother’s salmon pink mane and tail, the unmistakable Princess of the Falls. Raene is quiet, much like I was at her age, but her silken comes from pensiveness rather than injury, and I have never worried about her development in the way that my parents fretted over mine. She seems pleased, and I wish that I could say that I feel the same.
I’ve not seen my twin in years, and I’ve honestly no idea what to expect. As easy as it would be to blame him for my slurred speech, I’d long ago come to terms that it could have just as easily been my foot that connected with his skull in our mother’s womb as his with mine. The torment post-birth though? That was another issue entirely.
Still, I am king now and he is a diplomat, not only my torturous older brother.
“Kratos,” I say as we come upon the white stallion at the edge of the kingdom. “What brings you to the Falls?”
I’d assumed that Raene would follow my example and stay close to me, but the filly continues forward after I have stopped, and reaches up toward the white stallion with a curious nose. Probably wondering about the lightning, I think, and my suspicions are confirmed when she asks: “What’s that? Can I have it?”
i’m screaming the name of a foreigner’s god