to live and burn is
the most exquisite form of self destruction

As he neared the border of the Vulcans' homeland, Rade felt as if he were approaching the edge of the world.

Certainly the golden stallion stood upon a precipice, at least in the figurative sense. His actions on this day could have far-reaching consequences for the future of many - or they could end in failure, and maybe even his death. Perhaps this possibility should have instilled some fear in him, should have tempered his reckless action with a sense of caution. Yet though he was far nearer to the end of his life than he'd been the last time he faced the warrior-women of the Peak, it was adrenaline that made Rade's heart race, and his dusty, burnished skin tremble.

If he died today, at least no one could say that he hadn't lived.

Like a diver preparing himself for that first leap into uncharted waters, every one of the roan's senses seemed acute. The fleeting movement of a white hare through the grass was followed by his golden eyes, and the scents of numerous Vulcans were sifted through by quivering nostrils, as well as the musk of many bachelor stallions. Undoubtedly the trail - still reasonably fresh - was from the captives that the mares had taken after their victory. The cold kiss of snowflakes on his skin could also be felt; where the rest of the Crossing was on the brink of spring, winter still ruled here on the northern end of the isle.

The border was less of a distinctive line and more of a gradual transformation; Rade could not be certain of the exact moment he crossed over no man's land and into enemy territory. But as the earth beneath his hooves sloped gradually upwards, the fainter traces of scent and unshod hooves became more easily distinguished. These changes could not have been more welcome, for the palomino found that the higher he climbed, the more perilous the footing became. It was easier - and more assuring - to follow the paths broken by those who were familiar with the Peak, letting the cool air burn its way in and out of his laboring lungs as he ascended.

It was also fortunate that he was not here on a mission of stealth or subterfuge. By now Rade could sense the presence of Vulcans nearby - undoubtedly the women had been aware of his intrusion since the beginning but had chosen to wait until the stallion was at his most vulnerable to confront him. As if graciously accomodating this plan, the golden creature paused at a point where a sizeable shelf of rock stretched over the abyss. Two or three more could fit comfortably beside him - any more than that would be a crowd in peril of plunging to their doom.

And there he waited, one hind hoof cocked, for his fate to be decided. Inertia was a difficult enough task for a creature such as Rade, who had spent so much of his life always moving, always acting. To bring himself this far and know that the outcome was ultimately out of his power - it was, perhaps, the most impulsive thing that Rade had ever done. But he had seen the ruin that his own flesh and blood had wrought, and knew that this was something that needed to be addressed. Cullen had done great damage to the islands with his recent deeds, but it was not too late to put out the fire that had been kindled before it consumed them all.

The first die had been cast - now he could only watch with bated breath to see where it would land.

stallion . twenty-one . palomino roan . mustang mix . 15.1hh
debonaire x neassa