The Beach

He should have been in a good mood. He had won his challenge with the so-called King of the Dale, Katya was the surprising turncoat he had been sent to collect, and within the next few days there would be quite a few foals born with his genes. However his mood was sour and foul, he was sore and in pain from his battle with Cezanne and even victory couldn’t distract him from the throbbing pain in his leg and the scream of protest in his thigh. Blood had beaded along the lines of his various cuts and scratches, it trickled down the length of his front leg where he had cut it open on the rough earth. More then anything though, the adrenaline still rushed through his body. He had wanted to kill Cezanne once they had started going at it, the bloodlust on him and maddening his mind. It was still ebbing within him, he had only a small taste of it but his craving was huge. It needed to be satisfied. A slow trot is taken across the beach, the surf spraying sea salt into his mane and failing to help soothe his wounds. The sting only pushes him even more into irritation and annoyance. Why is he here in a land of death? Bleached skulls scatter the sand, the sickly sweet smell of death lingers in the air. Something has drawn him here. Her cries of labor reach his ears and slowly he makes his way towards the source of the sound. A living being here in death’s embrace? Crimson iris’s narrow on the mare, graying and aged. Way past her time. He is silent as she births her child and suddenly a cruel smile turns at the corners of his lips. Now here was another opportunity, something to satisfy his needs. We all know how much Gryffen takes pride in finding golden opportunities.. Lurking, waiting. The mare is weak, weaker then her child. It takes her sometime to struggle to her feet. It isn’t till the little black colt has lurched to his feet on unsteady spindly legs, cleaned by his mother and given his name that the ghostly stallion emerges from the shadows. Despite his injuries, he moves quickly. A shrill squeal is the only thing that alerts the mother to his sudden appearance. Gryffen strikes, teeth snapping and tearing at her flesh as he attacks her. He rears and heavy hooves strike all over her body, along her barrel and her shoulders and her neck. Not a single word is uttered, just sharp whinnies of anger as those blood red eyes dance in a murderous rage. Blow after heavy blow is dealt on the already exhausted mare, it was only a matter of time before she fell. Her death is inevitable, he leaves her broken and bleeding on the dark black sand. He is frothing at the mouth, sides heaving as he catches his breath. The colt had been temporarily forgotten but is now brought back to his attention. A critical gaze cast his way as he slowly takes steps towards him. He has every intention of killing him and it’s only the blank gaze that stops him. It takes a moment to register the foal’s blindness, that he had seen nothing of his crime. Another opportunity lay here… “Brynmor” The name hisses off his tongue, past lips tinged with red. His entire body is blood splattered, snowy white coat now flecked with thick droplets of red which mingles with his own. “Looks like you’ll be coming with me.” One of the Chamber mares would surely take in this child, Toria could raise it alongside their child. Another recruit for the Chamber, a young and easily manipulated mind. Without another word the child is pushed in the direction of the dark kingdom, his appetite satiated for awhile. There are no regrets. G R Y F F E N "Look at all the fucks I give"