A ghost horse

[magnus]

we carry these things inside that no one else can see
they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea

Magnus watched him with careful eyes, noting the forced nature of the smile and then glossing over it. If the other stallion wanted to delve more into the personal issues then they could, but Magnus wasn’t going to force the issue. The golden stallion knew how difficult it was to confront your own personal demons and he wasn’t about to force that onto a stranger that he had just met. So, instead, he kept it light.

“Indeed, I am.” His eyes narrowed slightly as he looked upward, the sun weakening but still bright, filtering through the nearby trees and dappling the ground around them. “I enjoy the autumn months. There is something about it that makes me think about renewal and second chances.” He tilted his head to the side, his scarred mouth lifting. He had to wonder if Nicca was in search of something like that.

He laughed gently at the other’s proclamation, shaking his head. “Ah, herds have never really been my forte, I am afraid.” He had been kingdom-bred to his core. Raised in the Jungle. Served as Lord in the Chamber. Became General and then King in the Gates. Left for the Dale to fight in their army. Returned to serve as Lord of the Gates and now Advisor, although the word still felt bitter on his tongue. If he wasn’t who he was, maybe he should try the herd life. Maybe he needed to change his life’s course.

He shook his head again, clearing the thoughts to focus better on the other. “I am actually from a kingdom known as Heaven’s Gates.” He gestured toward the border. “It is not far from here.” He waited a pause, wondering if the other stallion was familiar with the unique intricacies of Beqanna. “Are you from around here? I could tell you more about it, or kingdoms in general, if you would like.”

magnus