Diamant

"Hey, you. We should talk."

Diamant lifted his head from the grass to see his mother standing before him with a sheepish expression. "Sure," he said, and watched her curiously. It struck him then, that - though he had seen Inka only a few days ago - she seemed to have aged a great deal in their short time spent apart. Despite her great height, she seemed shrunken, with the way she stood hunched as though the weight of existence was getting to be too much. Her face was tired, too, with dark eyes half-closed and her snout peppered with new grey hairs. He wondered what was wrong.

"I-, well," his mother began, swinging her head away so that she was not looking directly at him. "Your brother's left. I wasn't sure if you knew. He's gone on a little trip with one of Adelheid's friends, Taika. I don't think you've met her before."

Is that all? Diamant lowered his head and returned to his grazing. "Good for him." Unlike his mother, Diamant was not concerned or worried about his siblings leaving the Peak. He had never formed a particularly strong bond with them, apart from Argento, and preferred to spend most of his free time alone anyway. They were entitled to their independence as much as he was; the only difference was they were all leaving at their own pace.

He heard his mother's mouth open, but she did not say anything, not immediately. "Yes, well. He'll be back, of course. I was just wondering, since your sisters have left the nest and Gent is getting his first taste of the world outside the Peak, whether you had thought about doing the same. You're a grown stallion now, and, while you're more than welcome here in the Peak-"

"Yes, I know," he interrupted with his mouth full of grass, a little more sharply than he had intended, and lifted his head to look at Inka. He had been anticipating this conversation for some time. For a moment, mother and son stared at each other, brown eyes regarding amber. "I haven't decided yet."

"Maybe you could go to Tinuvel. That's where your parents are from, after all."

Diamant grunted an acknowledgement. He began to stretch down toward the grass again, then froze. "What?" He lifted his head to see that his mother's face was slack with horror. "What do you mean, 'my parents'? You mean you and Dad, right?"

Inka did not respond right away.

The conversation that followed left Diamant's head spinning and his stomach churning. He paced up and down in the grass, back and forth, until he had worn it down to mud that clung to his feathers in lumps.

"I'm sorry," said Inka, her voice choked and hoarse with emotion. "I don't know what's wrong with me; it just slipped out. I wasn't planning on telling you this way, I swear." Diamant looked at her. Her head was hanging down to her knees, and her dark, tired face was streaked with tears. He wanted to feel sorry for her, he truly did. But he felt only anger, and he knew that if he stayed here any longer, one of the thousand terrible things that was running through his mind was bound to slip out.

"I'm going to the lagoon," he said, his voice stretched thin like a taut string. He stared at his mother-sister a moment longer, then turned and left. The sound of Inka's crying echoed from behind him.