Falls

Perhaps it simply hadn't sunk in, but Varanduil wasn't yet crushed by the guilt of betraying his golden master. Cullen would be so enormously displeased with him; was already furious with him for his vote. -And yet, Varanduil could feel only a hot, flickering sort of excitement at the prospect of his proud, fearsome idol chasing after him. He knew that to be caught by him now was perhaps deadly; that that patience Cullen had sheltered him in for so long had to have run dry now, no matter how 'special' he'd claimed him to be. No matter that he'd said he loved- Varanduil's stomach jumped, and he sped up, though he was going nowhere in particular.

For days now he'd simply been pacing through the trees surrounding the Falls, too restless and tense to stay in one place for long; too certain every sound was Cullen's battle-beaten hooves cracking twigs or clattering rocks in their hunt for him to rest. And he had to keep that hunt going, assuming Cullen had fallen for his bait at all, for once he was caught his sweet brother was certainly next, and that, more than his own body, was his main concern.

How was Fearghas doing..? Had Ally forgiven him? Had they found allies yet? -Or was the golden pike of Cullen's wrath aiming first to spear them? Should he have stayed..?

'Stayed with who?' he sneered at himself, tamping down the little flame of panic with self-loathing. He was no use to any of them in the Lagoon, and even less than that in the Savanna, where his beloved master could crush all his latest irritations in one blow and where his mere presence would drive his chosen family apart. No, better to be here, where he could pray that Cullen would play this silly, dangerous game with him; where Ally didn't have to look at him and think of wretched memories; where Fearghas- the memory of his brother's face as they parted, twisted with betrayed hurt, hit him suddenly and viciously in the stomach, and with a stuttered breath he raised his pace again, trying to leave behind his own worried confusion. He'd simply misread him. There was nothing of him that Fearghas could want, least of all by his side, ruining his new life and new home.

The clustered, slippery rocks at the foot of one of the Falls' many drops lent him a momentary respite, the cold spray cooling his sweat-darkened hide and letting his hurried breathing even out, though this was less from exertion than an uncomfortable, helpless fear that was not for himself. As his nervy panic subsided, frustration bled in in its place, and with a hissing exhale he plunged himself into the pool at his side until the tips of his narrow hooves could no longer scrape the bottom, the cold water rushing all around him shocking some of the anger into numbness.

In the end, protecting him in this small, pitiful way was all he could do.