"when there are no words,
and everything hurts…"
Where once the sounds of the battle that had broken out in the moonlit forest had stirred up eagerness and a dark kind of excitement in the large bay stallion, now it all seemed too loud, much too loud, even at this distance. Dalibor ran recklessly through the woods, heart racing with fear and guilt. He did not fear for his own life – Dalibor had never been afraid for himself in all the years he’d lived. But he feared what he had become. A creature driven by aggressive instinct, ever eager to lash out and bring harm to others before they had a chance to hurt him.
It cost him dearly, this savageness that he’d allowed to take root within himself. It had cost him dearly not so long ago – this was what had sent him running back to the Lost Islands. And he’d almost made the same mistake again, striking out in unbridled rage, and hurting the only friend he had left.
The shame Dalibor felt
burned him, and so caught up was he in struggling to keep the overwhelming guilt he felt at bay, that he didn’t notice the scent of the mare, nor see her, until it was almost too late. With a snort, eyes widening in shock, Dalibor stumbled and skidded to a halt, the white feathers of his hooves catching dried leaves and twigs in their dirtied tresses. The chestnut mare was larger than he, and this alone was enough to give Dalibor pause. But what had him backing off was the realisation that she had a foal at her side, a very young one, if he were not mistaken, judgng by the size and gangliness of the thing.
Despite the turmoil inside him, the bay sabino stallion was wise enough to retreat a little further, forcing his body to relax and soothing any aggression remaining in him from his posture. He was no threat, he would be no threat, not to this stranger and her tiny son. With a gentle nicker, Dalibor hoped to convey (the only way he was able to vocally) that he would not hurt the mare, or go for her son. But his ears twitched and a sudden rise in the less-distant-than-before battle had him tensing in anticipation. He looked to the mare with an unspoken question in his eyes, and, with a tilt of his white muzzle, he gestured towards the darkened Forest, drawing her attention to a track through the trees that looked as though it led away from the main fighting force.
It was Dalibor’s intention to leave this wartorn island as soon as possible. It was not wise for him to linger, for he could only control the raging anger inside him for so long in such a hostile environment. But before he left, it was the least he could do to try and help
someone, even if all the good deeds in the world would never completely wash the figurative blood layered thick on his hooves.