"But the world I see looks good from here,
right from where I stand."
In many ways, Kuruk wasn’t so different from the grey male who’d set hoof upon the Crossing Isle before him. Aside from their colouring – an obvious difference, they carried themselves similarly. There was confidence behind Kuruk’s every movement. Confidence in himself, in what he wanted, in knowing his family would never abandon him. Confidence that he belonged here, for this was his home. It may seem like a little thing, easily overlooked by others. But feeling at ease in one’s surroundings was something that so many took for granted. Though he was young yet, and inexperienced in many of the ways of the world, he knew what it felt like to not belong, and striding out of the sea with purpose, he revelled in the sense of familiarity that he had for this land.
They had both come here with anger in their hearts, though in Kuruk’s case, the anger wasn’t a result from a single incident, or a recent frustration – his was an ever-present, smouldering thing, giving off smoke in his chest. It had been there ever since he could remember, and though it had been recently fed by a fresh betrayal from an old betrayer, he hadn’t come to tame the beast within.
He’d come here to feed it.
His mother had told him of the Lagoon, and how his father had lived there once. Upon setting out from Atlantis, he had made the swim to the Crossing alone, slipping away quietly, so that his brothers didn’t offer to accompany him. Kuruk needed to be alone. He was a creature who craved lonely places, and enjoyed his own company over the company of strangers. The only ones he ever felt settled around were those he called family. Never before had he gone off on his own like this, even though he’d wanted to, many times before. It was these Islands, he told himself. They sang to something buried deep within him.
If only he’d been strong enough to resist digging up the song that now thrummed through him, matching the beating of his heart.
Kuruk hadn’t known what he’d wanted from this journey. Perhaps that was what had given birth to his anger – the not-knowing. The lack of purpose, or direction, beyond protecting what was his. As he made his way inland, he caught sight of the Peak out of the corner of his eye, but at this time, it wasn’t enough to hold his attention. The Lagoon. Was that why he had come here? For answers to questions that remained unspoken. For any small trace of his father. With a harsh snort, he stopped abruptly, eyes narrowed and shoulders tensed.
What did he want? He loved his mother, he loved her as much as he was capable of loving, and she had done her best, raising him and his brothers by herself. Kuruk was grown now, hardened and settled. He had no need of guidance from a father-figure, would not benefit from any kind of example. He was a boy no longer, and nothing anyone else did now could shape him into something different, something better, something
beautiful.
That was when he felt it, something base and dark and primitive within him. Instinct had brought him here, and perhaps that was what had brought the grey stallion here too. Forcing himself into movement as anxious energy prickled at his skin, Kuruk stumbled upon a sight that would stay with him for a long time. If he had beaten the grey to this place, to this moment, perhaps it would have been him biting at the mare’s neck, his weight heavy upon her, preventing her from escaping. For a moment it filled him with shame, acknowledging that if things had been different, he would have been a monster to this mare.
But as with most things Kuruk felt (except the rugged love for his kin), this shame quickly turned to anger, and fed the glowing embers in his heart. A guttural noise ripped up his throat and he bellowed, charging at the stallion who had already turned tail to flee. Kuruk couldn’t quite close the distance between them, and by the time he felt earth give way to sand beneath his hooves, the other brute was already in the water, leaving the island without even looking back. The bay stallion pawed at the sand, gouging up great chunks and carving deep furrows as the rage he felt took firm hold of him, and refused to let go. Dark eyes turned away from the shrinking figure in the waves, and he found a single word leaping from his lips.
“Coward!” Kuruk snarled, ears pinned, muscles aching, willing him to
move. And so he did. Great strides and thundering hoofbeats carried him back the way he had come, and all the while, he was on high alert, searching for the pale golden mare with some kind of desperation he didn’t understand. And then he caught sight of her, out of the corner of one wild eye. He skidded and altered course, head raised high, and he closed in on her with purpose, scrutinising the surroundings to ensure no-one else was approaching. It was just the two of them. Confident that they were alone, Kuruk fixed his gaze on her, and it was heavy and intense. He watched her closely, and somehow seemed very aware of her – believed that in this heightened state, he’d almost be able to predict her movements.
With a grunt, he stopped short, almost seeming to take himself by surprise. There was space enough between them for the mare to run and still have a chance (had she the energy), but he remained poised to pursue if she did attempt to run. Kuruk, however intimidating he appeared, tall and heavily built as he was, did not advance further. In fact, he retreated a few steps, but his ears turned back in some kind of subconscious, silent warning.
Do not try to run, not from me.
It wasn’t physical exertion that set his body to trembling now, it was something deeper (and darker) and it took all of his will not to move in and stand over her and exert dominance. He could run her to the beach, bite at her skin as the grey had done, to make her do what he wanted, herd her home to Atlantis. Breath came, quick and ragged, and when Kuruk spoke, his voice was husky and little more than a rumble, and he felt every synonym reverberating in his chest.
“He’s gone. Ah chased him to the sea. ” Already his muscles seemed to be protesting, and he leaned forwards suddenly, fighting the urge to move again,
just a little closer. Swallowing hard, Kuruk exhaled heavily, mouth feeling dry, ears rising and turning forwards.
“Ah… Ah just ---” He floundered, struggling to think as both the mare’s scent, and the stallion’s, seemed to tease him. It was just as well, after all, it was just foolish really.
‘I’m sorry’? A spoken apology could never be enough, not for what had been done. Though Kuruk hadn’t been the one to have hurt her so, to say the words out loud would be as good as confessing. And he couldn’t bare himself like that, not when he felt so lost and angry and confused. So he made her a promise instead, forcing it out, and vowed in his emberglow heart to honour it.
“Ah won’t come any closer. Won’t touch ya. But ah’ll stay, make sure he don’t come back… Watch over ya, if ya want.” And beneath the quiver in his voice, there was a sliver of something pure.
He may have settled into the shape of a beast, but perhaps, in a soft light, from just the right angle, his silhouette held the shape of something noble. There was darkness in him, there was no denying, but sometimes out of darkness, tiny flecks of light appeared, and the contrast between them made them all the more beautiful.