It felt good to have the powers flow through him again.
More than good. It felt right.
As soon as the fairy had snapped her tail, he’d felt it flood back into him—in the same manner that it had left. The singular horn in the middle of his forehead had dissolved and the weight had been redistributed, rightfully so, to the sides of his head where the horns curled out, menacing. Brute force instead of the piercing danger of the singular horn. His hooves had split open into their cloven form. He had felt the speed, the agility, the endurance like a drug in his blood; the feeling was both heady and powerful.
He had not waited around to simper out his thank you. Instead, he had turned on his youthful hocks and made his way back to the deserted graveyard that was Pangea—that was his temporary home. He had been attempting to seek out his father when he had run across her. There was a glint in her eye, something that spoke to the bloodthirsty nature that was curdling in his blood, the fear that was now within his grasp.
So he slowed, he angled his path toward her. He came within several feet before he stopped, his dark eyes appraising her and then locking onto her. He himself was still young, a yearling stallion with just enough heft to not look ridiculous. He was filling out, but wasn’t quite full-grown—still coltish and long-limbed. But, if you looked close enough, something simmered underneath the surface. Something that was not fully formed but dangerous, something that was almost outside of his control. Something wild, feral.
His smile was slow and calculated when he finally gave it.
“You look like you may be missing something that was once yours.”
Weren’t they all?
Bruise
head like a hole; as black as your soul.
@[violence]