They dream as they slumber. Madison dreams the same as always, of her mother and of her betrayal. It always starts the same, their mother nuzzling each twin in turn, whispering words of ‘I love you’ into her tiny, chestnut ears. Her warm breath upon her small, baby face, like the gentle caress of a warm summer breeze. But then she vanishes, leaving her daughter and son behind. Madison can still remember the pain of her abandoning them, how her heart had ripped, how it had been torn to pieces until it lay in scraps upon the floor. She doesn't remember the first few days after her mother had left, she couldn't see her, her eyes so blurred with tears, she could barely raise her head, not finding any strength to survive. She relives the pain in her dream turned nightmare, but there is a light at the end of the tunnel. And Madison’s light was named Marcelo, her crimson prince with short ivory locks that stood atop his nape. He told her they needed to stand, to find food, to survive and so she did stand. He clutched her to him, wrapping his neck around hers, holding tight with all the strength he could muster and into her drooping ears he whispered “I will never leave you.”

And so he hasn’t.

Marcelo dreams of different things, he doesn't dream of the past, not having been as scarred as his sister. Of course, it had cut him deep when he awoke to find his mother gone without a trace, but he did not break like Madison; he got angry. So Marcelo’s dream images do not drift to past events, but instead, they fly into the future, caught up in the thoughts of what could be rather than what has happened. He sees his twin, healthy and strong, her storm cloud eyes are bright, and she giggles, smiling as she so often did before their mother left them. Marcelo has always had trouble dreaming of himself though, unless it was tied to Madison, but never on his own. Is that what parents do? Do they dream of their children and where they will be in the future, hoping good things happen for them and wishing well? He wanted her to be happy, the frail thing that barely spoke for fear of her voice bringing tears stinging to her stormy eyes. He dreams of Madison beside him, because perhaps, he cant imagine himself living without her, because he would give up his life time and time again in the place of hers.

Matching bodies of chestnut lay still, only the occasional twitch upon their hide and the rhythmic rise and fall of tiny chests is confirmation that the children are indeed alive. Madison’s lips rimmed in gray twitch occasionally, as if trying to suckle the milk that was not there. Sometimes, when she wasn't dreaming of her mother of Marcelo, she would dream of nursing, milk sliding down her throat, filling her belly. She hated these dreams, for when he awoke, she always felt a little more hollow and a little more hungry than when she had fallen asleep to begin with.

A voice. Marcelo’s ears twitch, always the light sleeper of the duo, eyes of umber snap open an it is not long until he is on his feet, legs braced. Madison, feeling her brother’s movement, open stormy eyes before looking up at the giant (at least to her she was giant) mare. Feeling her brother’s tension, she attempts to wiggle herself nearly under his long, skinny, foal legs. Marcelo mean while, narrows eyes, attempts to look as menacing as possible, hunching his shoulders, baring the one or two teeth that had emerged from pink gums. His ears flatten against his blonde, flaxen locks as he stands his ground. But hidden beneath his attempted bravado, his ribs stick out against chestnut skin, legs wobble slightly as they bare the meager amount of weight remaining on his body, his eyes do not shine with childish innocence and wonder, but instead are dull with impending doom and sorrow. “Don’t touch her!” He tries to yell, wanting to sound as fierce and as brave as he can, but his voice is too high-pitched, too boyish, and too shaky with hunger. Madison struggle to her unsteady feet before dashing behind her brother, but she does dare to peek out behind him, stormy blue eyes looking to the newborn foal and to the mare. Her frail heart pitter patters with wishes she doesn't want to tell. Her eyes, though dull, still have a shine to them, hinting that she hasn't yet been stripped of her childhood. She continues to stare, in that unabashed way that only children can, as she shuffles closer to her brother, finding comfort in his touch.

Marcelo, blinded by fear, remains unmoved, except the occasional tremor of weakness, as he looks up at her. He had nothing to lose at this point. The flaxen chestnut colt doesn't know she poses know threat, doesn't know of the wishes bouncing around in Madison’s heart. The colt realizes he wouldn't ever be able to fight off a fully grown mare, no matter how far his imagination could stretch. Nostril catch the scent of milk and for a moment, a mere instant, he is a foal and not a guardian, his ears perk, he loses tension, but he quickly returns back to the protective guardian, yet his nostrils still quiver at the enticing scent. Madison too catches hint of it, ears flicker forward as she snakes her head around her brother’s small frame. Her lips open and close, hunger knawing in her stomach. Marcelo feels Madison beginning to slide passed him and he quickly blocks her from moving any further. ”What do you want with us?” he asks, his voice gentler, showing the sweet child that remains inside the scruffy, abandoned colt.

x-marcelo & madison-x