Common

Hope was a force more powerful than any Iscariot had known.

It had started as a small spark - just a tiny flicker of light that seemed to hover beside the stallion's heart. But as the dark mare broke her contemplative silence to speak, it flared and took on a life all its own, flooding his limbs with welcome warmth. Thawing muscles and sinew from their frozen, rigid state - and even easing the aches of his much-abused body. I will show you where I washed up.. The offer touched Iscariot deeply - he had thought that she might point him in the right direction, but to agree to accompany him as well demonstrated a level of genuine care and concern that only Rivaini had ever shown him previously. As if he feared that she might change her mind, the perlino hastened to his companion's side, crowding so close to her that his pale hide brushed her shadowy skin in passing.

It wasn't intentional - like any drug, hope altered Iscariot's inhibitions, leading him to perform acts that he wouldn't have dreamed of in his more lucid moments. Like pushing the boundaries of his physical capabilities. "If there's a chance she is near, rest be damned," the ashen stallion spoke, punctuating this sentence with a husky laugh and a toss of his head to banish the creamy strand of his forelock from his field of vision. "As soon as you are ready, lead the way - and I will follow."

Once she was underway, Iscariot fell in behind Faolain, a more respectful distance opening between their two bodies. Though he would've liked to claim that this was due to a conscious recognition and respect, it quickly became apparent that the Andalusian male was struggling with the pace. In the lull of inactivity his hind legs had been absent any complaints, but now that he was in motion they were practically screaming in protest. Before long Iscariot was heavily favoring his left hind limb - taking shorter, abbreviated steps that caused his hip to sink lower on that side as the sounder leg struggled to compensate.

It was a heart-wrenching sight, but the ivory stallion was determined and would permit nothing to stop their short journey. If it had come to it, he was certain that he would drag himself along on three legs, or even two - after all, what was a little pain to the possibility of seeing his sister again? And surely they were almost there; it seemed like Faolain's strides were beginning to slow. Timing each exhale of breath to the moment his throbbing leg struck the ground, Iscariot trotted doggedly on, seeking to close some of the rift that had formed between the two travelers during his struggle.