It was impossible to say just how long he had been stood there. The sun had been high in the heavens when the stallion had paused his constant traversing of the terrain, golden rays warming as they caressed over his dark pelt. There was no hiding the numerous scars which littered across him in that bright light. But blessedly there was none to view and question. Questions drew only more questions, and he loathed the feelings that bubbled up with just that first one, disliked loathing, and sighed at the whole circle that would begin if he allowed himself to feel. He was entirely better off he avoided those few words that could drag up what was unwelcome. That which he was still unprepared for after even six years now.

Shadows were growing, reaching out to reclaim the earth, coiling their dark fingers about the ebony statue cut out against the ocean waves and the painted skies. Winters quiet had well and truly passed on now as birdsong spilled through the air as the many feathers creatures found their way back to their nests, the harsher cries of the ocean goers slicing through the cleaner melodies of their land loving cousins. So far however Anonymous had yet to set his eyes upon a single new-borns spindly form attempting to play over the islands varied terrain, another thought he pulled away from dwelling upon. It was simply a reminder of what he had committed to with a few witless words. It was enough to glimpse those feminine forms between the trees, to capture the tail end of their scents upon the breeze. They were reminder enough of the unfamiliar sense of responsibility that now settled like a knife between his shoulders, though they had yet to know of more than the passing shadow of the form that had accepted some of their leads burden as his to share.

In his patrolling of the borders it was easiest to forget. Day after day, week after week. It was the mindless constant movement that required little more thought than an awareness of his surroundings. He could hide from the thoughts that chased at his heels and shove down the twisting feeling of guilt, waiting for the day Vodnik would come to realise his error. It was only a matter of time he was sure. One day he would be pushed back out into the waves, not to return to a land that had become more familiar than any in his past.

No one belongs nowhere. On flint hoof stamped at the hard mocking words, cutting into the soft sands which gave easily beneath the impact. Tiny granules swiftly tumbled to fill the hole as he turned from the waters and started along the shoreline. Said innocently those words held an entirely different meaning. In his mother’s venomous tones there was only one meaning, one meant only for him.