the Ocean has its silent caves, deep, quiet, and alone;
though there be fury on the waves, beneath them there is none.
Dappled sunlight above his head; cool water against his scales. The current draws his mane out in long, tranquilly tangled strands as he peers upwards. This is the last section of the truly deep part of the river; the last place where he can walk along the bottom completely submerged and away from prying eyes. A school of fish slides past his face and the boy snaps at them, idly; he’s not hungry, hunting has been good on the swim over, but they’re glittering in the sunlight from above and that makes them attractive prey.
Taking a last deep breath of the cold rushing water around him, he moves forward and slowly climbs the banks up into the air. A foot is put down in the wrong place and slides down, his knee banging hard against the boulder before he regains his footing, looking down at his blue hooves with disfavor. It is not the first time Cas has wished he was just a little more like his father; he has just enough kelpie in him to make him dangerous, but he will never be able to shed his equine limbs, and hooves are not made for climbing wet rock. His first inhale when his head breaks the surface is, as always, sharp and watery and uncomfortable as his body makes the change from breathing water to breathing air; the stallion shakes his head in irritation and snorts the last of the water from his nostrils aggressively.
His bright mane and tail feel heavy without the water to bouy them, and he knows they will hang uncomfortably until they dry. Unfortunately, he has found a distinct lack of companionship of any sort under the ocean’s surface. Father had told him he would, of course; he’d suggested that Casimir find a pretty girl or two and start a herd of his own. Of course, he’d followed that up with a suggestion of the best way to dispose of girls who proved to be subpar breeders, but Cas isn’t sure about investing the time into building a relationship with someone he intends to eat.
Still, Ivar had been a better parent than Kellyn. Kellyn had been, as usual, interested in the idea of a child, and it was true that she was a better mother to Cas than some of his sisters, but maternal she was not. She’d promised to come back some day and teach him more about the magic Ivar had not given him, but so far he hadn’t seen her. His older sister had been a much more motherly mother figure, raising Cas alongside her own children, but she was soft and no match for his wildness.
What is out there, except family? Cas has decided now is the time to find out.
@[jenger]