09-10-2016, 11:00 AM
Island life was the only thing he knew. Isak was born to the queen and her shadowy lover, who came like a thief in the night. He was the soft spot in what was once considered an unbreakable mare and that was why he left his home. He could not be what caused the downfall of the all mare herd, he refused to be the thing that brought his mother down -- oh, how fearsome and terrible she could be and yet, when Isak was born her hatred turned to something softer. Could he call it love? The bay isn’t quite sure, but he knows the mare felt close to him, perhaps because he reminded her of his father.
A horse Isak never met.
He only had stories and they were hardly enough. How his father was all dark and somber and would swim the channel to visit her in the good seasons. Isak heard that his father was a mercenary, hired to kill and claim all in his wake. It seemed like a good match in his mind.
He does not move when the other horse approaches him, instead he breathes in the scent of salt and sand and it calms him instantly. Isak flicks his dark eyes onto this newcomer and he can see the traces of the island mingled in his coat -- it makes his heart swell up and at first, he cannot speak. He simply stands there shivering for the longest time.
“I don’t know where I am,” Isak says.
He does not need help, he does not need anyone. His mother taught him that. So he does not say anything else for a moment, chewing lazily at his frozen lips. “You smell like the ocean, is there an ocean nearby?” He says and his voice sounds hopeful, almost eager.
A horse Isak never met.
He only had stories and they were hardly enough. How his father was all dark and somber and would swim the channel to visit her in the good seasons. Isak heard that his father was a mercenary, hired to kill and claim all in his wake. It seemed like a good match in his mind.
He does not move when the other horse approaches him, instead he breathes in the scent of salt and sand and it calms him instantly. Isak flicks his dark eyes onto this newcomer and he can see the traces of the island mingled in his coat -- it makes his heart swell up and at first, he cannot speak. He simply stands there shivering for the longest time.
“I don’t know where I am,” Isak says.
He does not need help, he does not need anyone. His mother taught him that. So he does not say anything else for a moment, chewing lazily at his frozen lips. “You smell like the ocean, is there an ocean nearby?” He says and his voice sounds hopeful, almost eager.