His face was a mask of intense focus, his white-ringed dark eyes wide with curiosity as he hung his head inches from where the centipede crawled upon the rotting log. His little nostrils fluttered, taking in the heady scents of earth and death and leaf litter, and his stump of a tail flopped briskly back and forth atop his hindquarters with mischief. Once, twice, he dared to touch the creature with his snout, though he always jerked his head back quickly, out of reach, before it could bite him. The insect seemed unnerved by his interest, and skittered aimlessly in every direction as if to flee from him. He could see its tiny black eyes fixed in the exoskeleton of its head, and its antennae flailing wildly like drunken limbs. He thought it ironic that, for all the legs it had, the centipede was awfully inefficient at travelling. What was the point of such a creature, anyhow? It was almost kinder to put it out of its misery.

When the tiny body gave way beneath his hoof with a tiny crunch, Vitalij looked down at the crushed mess of its remains and smiled with satisfaction.

The colt was big for his age, solemn, and fiercely indepedent. While others might still meekly be following their mothers around like lambs, playing with others their age, or charging through the underbrush in search of adventure, Vitalij made contact with his dam only when necessary, such as to nurse, and he had little to no interest in the other foals of the forest, not even his own adoptive sister, let alone running around with them for no purpose at all. He had even already been named. Nymeria had told him he'd earned it early, for he had come into this world already strong enough to almost overpower her aging body. Nymeria spoke little, but there was a fire within him, she'd said. That made Vitalij prideful, and perhaps more confident in his youthful body than he had any right to be. Often he looked at his sire, Vercingetorix, half in envy of his size and rippling muscles, and half with the delusion that he himself was just as impressive. He was simultaneously fascinated with and frightened of the red stallion, and often spent these humid summer afternoons, when the rest of the herd was dozing in the shade, following the stallion around.

Today, though, his attention was elsewhere, namely with all the smaller living creatures of the forest, such as the insects and rabbits and birds: the ones he could overpower. So far, of course, he had only managed to catch unimpressive things like worms and butterflies and this centipede; birds and rabbits were much too quick for him still, something that irritated him to no end. He could not wait for the day when his body was strong and swift enough to keep up with his ambitions.

The soot-colored colt lifted his head and gazed out into the shadows of the forest, where leaves stirred in the slightest breath of wind and cast dappled shadows upon the ground. Someday, someday, he thought ruefully.