the fire in my heart
will burn me to the ground
It was either with bravery or stupidity that Sandman held his ground as the large Valkyrie mare barreled down to mountain towards him. His anger refused to let him retreat, or perhaps there was another reason he stayed, ears pinned and chin tucked to his neck. Where she had come into contact with him, the mud smeared on his coat, his muscles throbbed and he drew in a ragged breath, fire flowing through his veins. This. This was what he wanted. He should have known better to expect any resistance from the sorry excuse of a stallion that cowered behind the defensive female. As it was, though, he was puzzled by her behaviour. Why did she defend him - the halfling? Was she the reason why the other stallion had tried to discourage him from lingering. A harsh snort, and he backed away from the mare, feigning retreat, backing away so that he might have a moment to study the miserable creature that shrank back from him, shifting closer to the mare's side. It told Sandman all he needed to know. Balthazar viewed this female as superior, and deferred to her, seeking protection in her shadow. She was not the reason why he had meekly tried to drive him away.
With a tilt of his head, he dismissed the male (for now), and his eyes settled upon the mare. "My name is of little consequence," he said flatly. "But, if you really want to know, ask him." His words were biting, harsh, as he gestured with his muzzle toward Balthazar. His eyes never left Impazienza's face. Not even when Balthazar made a sound in his throat, and retreated a step or two up the slope of the Peak. "And as for my purpose, I'm afraid I can't tell you, for he took that from me, along with everything else." The words were low and heavy in the air, and Sandman narrowed his eyes and directed them to Balthazar's face. The silver-haired male wouldn't look at him. Couldn't. The younger male could see the light of realisation coming to the older one's face, and would have sneered with satisfaction, if he didn't hurt so much.
"Yes, you know me," the words were whispered, and raw. Balthazar backed up, and with a harsh snort, Sandman advanced once more, like a predator unwilling to let his prey escape. The mare was quick to block his way, and his amber eyes flickered, like a fire was casting shadows from the inside. "You have to face your destiny, and take responsibility for all the wrongs you have done." Sandman pinned his ears as he spoke, his words chasing Balthazar up the mountainside. And he bared his teeth in savage frustration, because he could not follow. "No?" he snarled, making no further attempts to follow, so that the large mare would not be further provoked to close with him. "Not today?" he raised his voice, so that the fleeing stallion could not outrun his words. "You cannot hide forever, killer of kings, and you cannot run, not from me!"
The half-blind, half-deaf stallion was gone, and Sandman felt his skin burn - with anger and disgust. He shifted his weight, and then took a few steps back, so he settled for a time on a stretch of flatter ground. He exhaled heavily, his breathing ragged and uneven. His focus shifted onto the mare now, even though his eyes strayed up the rocky slope. "He is a coward," he spat, as if replying an unspoken question. "Why is it you allow him to stay?" Now, he turned his bright, dark eyes to her, and they gleamed, hungry for an answer. "All I want is him. Give him to me, and I will go quietly." A moment, so that she could consider his words. "I did not come to bring harm to you, nor any who call this mountain home. But make no mistake, I am out for his blood, and I will be relentless." The Sandman's words were measured, and he watched the mare closely. She was blind in one eye, like the halfling was, and he recalled about her earlier words about deaf ears, and wondered if she was half-deaf too. "Nothing can keep me away, so long as he remains here, in this land upon which he is not meant to walk."
The tension left the dirtied stallion then, but he by no means relaxed his guard. When he spoke, his words sounded strained, as if he were too tired of keeping them untouched by the ache that never left his soul. "He always runs," he told her. "In the end, when he is needed most, he runs, and he gives no thought to those he leaves behind. He is a coward. And if you are wise, you will not let him in. He is broken in nature, and he breaks everything he touches..." Sandman trailed off, his focus wavering. "I only... I never did anything... He is so blind... Always running, can't even see..." His shook his head, the movement careful, as though it caused him pain. "Believe me, for I have seen it happen, many times." He was quiet then, shifting back a little further to give the mare more room, and himself just a little longer to speak.
"How well do you know him?" he asked, and his dark curiosity was genuine. "He does not belong here," he continued, not even attempting to keep the bite from his voice. "No good will come of his being here, can't you see that?" And already the edge was gone, replaced by a wounded tone that had Sandman's ears pinning themselves. "I did not mean to trespass, and I truly have no desire to bring harm to any among your herd. I just want him. I will not see him damage anything else." Sandman turned and began to descend. He had not made it far up the slope, and so, it did not take long for him to find the ground leveling beneath his hooves. He turned back to find the mare watching him take his leave. "Drive him away before it is too late," he called back to her. "I'll be lingering in the shadow of your mountain, to make sure he doesn't come back."
And leaving Impazienza with those words, Sandman ambled off, his movements slow, and his head held low, as if he carried a great burden, and felt their earlier collision in his bones. Every word he had said was true, or at least, every word had been his truth. And, if Impazienza so desired, she would find him not far beyond the border, waiting and watching. He would speak to her, if he deemed that she would listen. As for Balthazar, he had retreated to the cave he had lingered in much of the time he had been here. He was trapped and trembling, and would not give so readily as the monster who waited for him at the bottom of the mountain. Out of the two, he was clearly not a threat physically, but, if she were to believe the words that the intruder had spoken, it was Balthazar who was dangerous, and not the wolf that was left wanting for him.
sandman
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