fearghas

The meeting had been a gamble, and one that Fearghas was still not entirely certain that he'd won. With the agreement they'd reached, he should feel happier than he had in days. It was what he had wanted, perhaps even more than what he had dared to hope for, and yet he couldn't shake the impending sense of doom that hovered over his head.

They'd agreed to give him a prisoner, against all odds. They'd agreed to give one back so that Ally might finally be free to live her life, a debt that Fearghas had owed to her for far too long. It was not that he wanted to please Cullen. In truth, Fearghas was growing tired of the noose that seemed to grow ever tighter around his mottled throat and of the demon that held the other end, but he knew, intrinsically, that he could not fight him alone. He was not yet ready to protect Ally by himself, and he would sacrifice his own pride a hundred times if it meant that she could be safe and away from the yellow-coated demon.

But ultimately, winning here also meant losing. He would lose the only creature whose company he'd truly enjoyed since arriving in the Lagoon. His best friend. The one who made his heart skip a beat each time they brushed against each other. The one whose opinion mattered more to him than the entire world's. He would lose her to someone else; someone who might trail kisses across the quicksilver of her hide and race with her across landscapes unknown.

Someone that would be better for her, he tried to reassure himself.

The young stallion did his best to keep from focusing on the negatives, pouring his energy into a ground eating trot that did much to distance himself from the imposing leading ladies of the Peak. He admired the way they wore their strength like mantles without trying to intimidate him, although Wasp had made her distrust of him clear. Not that he blamed her. From what little he had seen of the man who ran his home, Lagoonies had given the islands very little to admire.

It is only the sound of another stallion's call that makes the spotted male slow his journey, and he shifts course to join him, curiosity written on his face. Fearghas had not had a chance to interact with the Peak captives, having arrived shortly after they'd been forcibly taken, but he could think of no other reason why a stallion might linger here among the Peak residents. From what little he'd seen of the world, the respective gender-led herds were not entirely kind to those of the opposite sex.

"'Ello," the young male offers cheerfully. As much as he was in a hurry to return home, this small delay meant a few more minutes before he had to face the truth that he would not see Ally again any time soon. "What can I help ye with?"

His voice is guarded, but not unkind. The stallion before him is older, but not infirm and it is evident from the way that he holds himself that he had something that he wanted to say. For the life of him, Fearghas has no idea what it is. He does not know this man, and if he were being entirely honest, the golden shift of his coat makes him uneasy, if only because of the fact that it reminds him of Cullen. Was this yet another of Cullen's relatives?

stallion . 3 years . 15.2 hands . smoky black blanket . loveinspired . credit