“Kunžak!” The cry, spoken with accented tones foreign to most that dwelt upon the rugged slopes of the Peak, rang through the air, and was accompanied by a clatter of stones as a figure who was closer to stallion than colt (but had yet to grow into the lankiness of his slender legs) eagerly made his way to the side of the inky dark stallion. A bright smile stretched across his muzzle as he reached for the older male in greeting, huffing gently from the exertion of his short-lived dash.

Speaking in words only Kunžak (and one other) would understand (not for the desire for privacy, but rather out of necessity; this was the only way he knew), he asked for a little of the noble-hearted stallion’s time. “Can you show me one of the trails we haven’t walked yet, please?” Even as the words were leaving his lips, Kuráž found himself turning to examine the great Peak that rose above them, indomitable, and visible upon the horizon-line from every vantage point on the Crossing. “Bozena doesn’t like me exploring the high slopes by myself,” he offered by way of explanation, but his tone took on a strange quality, as though he were distracted.

The black colt, his coat flecked here and there with streaks of white, shook free from his introspection, and sought to continue their conversation as Kunžak led him towards one of the many trails that crisscrossed the mountainside. Wherever it was they ended up didn’t really matter – it was not some lofty destination that the younger male truly wanted, rather, it was merely some honest guidance that he needed.

“I saw her this morning. She seems tired. Is the Lagoon causing trouble again?” He continued his charade of light-hearted conversation, but it was clear that his mind was elsewhere. After several minutes of following carefully in Kunžak’s hoofsteps, Kuráž stopped to catch his breath, and in the silence and stillness of that moment, his reticence crumbled, and in the solitude he shared only with one of his own kin, the young stallion felt free to speak what was weighing on his mind. “There is much I do not understand, Kune. All I have are the few stories my mother told me, and that’s no longer enough for me.”

Rolling a shoulder blade as if to expel nervous energy or tension, he turned to meet the gaze of the dark figure standing beside him. In the relatively short time they’d known one another, Kuráž had come to view Kunžak as a wise mentor, and he’d never said as much (yet), but the stallion meant much to him. “I feel like I am not enough. For Bozena and for you, yes, but…” The confession was murmured quietly, and Kuráž flattened his ears momentarily in frustration.

“Why is it that I am so different, that I cannot understand?” He expelled his aggravation with a snort, and shuffled a hoof, dropping his chin a little and casting about internally for a moment for words that would best convey the tangle of emotions that lay coiled within him. “My mouth rejects the Language of the Islands, but if I cannot gain mastery of my own failings,” his voice trembled a little, and broke, “how am I to feel like I truly belong here?”