'You have an aunt in Taiga,’ Elaina had told him.
Discovering Elaina in magnificent, mountainous Hyaline had been shock enough. But to know he had an aunt in Beqanna as well? He had known they were out there, somewhere. It hadn’t been a secret when his golden cousin had taken off for Windskeep and then Lilli followed soon after, wanting a fresh start in places unknown. Nobody had blamed them – how could they? Kildare’s father had intended to take his own family and leave. Elaina and Lilliana had been entitled to do the same.
Just as he had been.
But the knowledge of her in Beqanna is unsettling. Kildare has been here a full year now and this place has been a salvation of sorts. He’s been allowed to breathe and stretch and grow in a way that he doesn’t think he would have otherwise been allowed too. Kildare, youngest son of Malachi and Kalina, the little boy who had been born with as much Legacy blood as he had been of that dark god Abaddon, has felt his blood settling here. He has felt himself settling here, in all parts of Beqanna and more recently Loess.
But the knowledge that his aunt is in Taiga brings about that promise he made and Kildare, for as much as values his freedom and the distance he has put between himself and his bloodline, he had still made a promise. And that, well that, there was no going back on that. His mind is troubled with the possible consequences of this action – if he does go? If he does not go? There are several possibilities and the young stallion knows he owes that promise to at least a visit to see how his aunt fares in the northern woods.
Perhaps he might even journey on to Nerine afterwards.
Kildare is no lover of the summer heat. It always seems to find him and bleach out his dark coat, overheats when the sun reaches its highest zenith. The young stallion sticks to where the tree cover is heaviest and longs for a breeze. He catches whispers of it but it is weak in the deepest part of the forest. The salt air that he has come to enjoy is far away now, leaving Kildare immersed in the scent of pine and the dog days of summer. Where is the clarity of his mountain breezes? He wants the bite and bark of the cooler air to wake him from the doldrums of these days.
He’d take anything at this point for a distraction, anything from the cursed insects that he swats at with his tail and occasionally turning his head to bare his teeth at. Bugs, trees, humidity. Kildare is ready to forsake this place to the pesky creatures that buzz around until a stirring through the trees causes him to pause.
She blends in, almost. Her bay form melts into the trunks of the trees and it is only her ambling through these woods, much like himself, that attracts his attention. Kildare stops and listens as the hoofbeats tread quietly on the loamy ground. Deciding to not let the mare slip from his line of vision, he calls after her. ”What’s a girl like you doing in a forest like this?”
@[Brinly]