Oswin’s life had become burdened by family for far too long. Family which she couldn’t speak of with her mother or her father when she returned to them on the Mainlands, because the blood of her brother ran through their veins. In Nephilim’s passing she had become the eldest her nephews and nieces turned their eyes to, even as they squabbled amongst themselves and let their pain tear them apart. She had felt beholden to Nephilim’s memory as her dreams were followed by his ghost and all those long nights they spent talking in the valley he’d wasted away in.
When everything broke to pieces and everyone went their separate ways, Oswin’s heart hung heavy. As her eyes lifted to the stars at night, she felt like she’d been the final piece to fail Nephilim. He’d loved his children and never wanted them apart, but in his passing they’d scattered on the wind and drifted further than they’d ever been. Oswin had tried to prevent it, but she couldn’t.
They were too hard-headed, just like him.
Just like her.
Oswin sighed and walked along the still-familiar trails of Crossing Isle. When her daughter had talked about returning to the islands it had awoken that call to her, too. Her passionate words to Macabre still rang in her ears and the pang of failing that calling followed shortly after. She was thirteen now, perhaps midway through her life if she was lucky, and her gold and white coat was mottled with battle scars like a stallion’s would be. She had no lame limbs or ailments that plagued her and she certainly had never settled into a herd life.
So, Oswin returned to the Peak and found it empty enough to make that ache grow twice in size. Needing to make sense of its silence, she hoped it was a sign the islands didn’t need the Vulcan mares and set out to explore. The first obvious place to come was the Commons, for those were where the worst of the isles were often set to snatch their prizes.
Immediately she came upon action, seeing a stallion nip another’s shoulder and flatten his ears to drive him away. It wasn’t a mare in trouble, but Oswin didn’t hesitate.
We’re supposed to be a symbol of the power of independence, born during a time mares were oppressed with no value aside from their bodies and what they could provide for a stallion. In this new time, where mares are showing they are just as capable if not more-so of leading… I think the Peak’s message is changing too. We stand for the oppressed, as we always have… only this time, now, the lines are blurred.
Her own words in her ears as Oswin squealed, ears lacing flat against her skull and charged for the golden stallion. She made for their path, to cut them off or force them to fight her.
“I think Hell’s already come for you” She told the gold stallion, ears laced and adrenaline pumping hot in her veins. “The Peak doesn’t let anyone take captives, mares or stallions.”
oswin
this is as brave as I know how to be.
I know it’s gonna hurt you, but please… be a little proud of me.