They were walking.

They had been walking for ages and ages it felt like. Marcelo walked with high steps, his head held high, not letting himself falter for even a moment, not allowing himself to drag his feet or stumble. He looked strong for so very young age, but inside he was so tired and so weak, but he couldn't feel those things right now, he had to be this strong—for his twin sister. Earthen gaze falls unto his sister, who was a few steps behind him, her small, dainty little hooves dragging with every step. He thinks that she looks so small, so little, so weak. And it was true, she was all those things, small, little, weak.

But so was he.
No matter how he tries to forget that he is because he couldn't be weak when his sister was so delicate. He had to be strong, brave, fearless, encouraging. Marcelo had to be everything for her.

“Come on Mads,” he says, turning his small, childish frame to face her as he ducks his nuzzle under hers, lifting her own up slightly in as an encouragingly way as possible. He couldn't allow her to give up because the moment they gave up, they would die. They couldn't give up because that is what their mother had done, given up on them, she left in the middle of the night like a coward, too frightened to continue raising her two children. The thought of his dam makes those brown eyes of his run with a hot intensity. It wasn't so much just that she abandoned him, but she left his twin, his sister who had taken it so much to heart, who had cried days on end, laying with her brother as her stomach rumbled in his ears. It was when she had looked up at him with those storm cloud eyes of hers, eyes that were so beautiful and perfect that Marcelo knew he needed to do something. Until arriving at the Islands, they had been able to get away with either begging for milk from generous mares, or stealing a few suckles away from those mares who were unsuspecting. Always, they were told they couldn't stay, either because they wouldn't have enough milk for their own child, or they would realize it was not their own foal nursing and would kick them away.

Stomachs rumble, a familiar sound to the two foals now. Marcelo knew he needed to find food of themselves. Eyes look to his sister once more, it pained him to see the way her ribs stuck out from her sides, but still, she was not even as skinny as Marcelo was. Whenever they had a chance to feed he always let Madison nurse first, when they snuck food he would have her suckle and he would stand beside her, ready to take any kicks sent their way. He was her protector. It was that way ever since they were born.

Madison stumbles to her knees and Marcelo is quick to go beside her, their scarlet hued bodies mixing together, only to be told apart by their contrasting eye colors and Marcelo’s flaxen blonde hair. “I cant go another step,” she utters weakly, her voice cracking, hoping she wasn't disappointing her brother. Silvery blue eyes the color of storm clouds look up at him, tracing his face for any sign of aggravation or annoyance, but of course, she finds nothing but love in his umber eyes. “It’s okay,” he says, hushing her as he lets his knees collapse underneath him and lays beside her. He glances to the horizon and sees the sun beginning to dip lower. “We can stay here tonight,” his voice sounds so much more mature than it should for one so small, it is high pitched, childish sounding, yet it holds a sincerity within it that most adults cannot even manage to hold. The familiar feeling of his sister’s boney body presses against him, and he tries not to let any of his own poke back against her. Her head falls against the soil as eyes flutter close beauty baby lashes. Marcelo lets his crimson head fall protectively atop Madison’s own. He wants to stay awake to keep away any danger, he wants to remain vigilant and be the protector his sister deserves, but eventually, the tired, tired colt feels his eyes grow heavy as he slips into a sleepless slumber.

x-marcelo & madison-x