He buries his skeletons; Posted on September 21, 2016 at 10:47:29 PM by Dreadstag
The mists from the roaring falls blanketed over the area, keeping it relatively cool and relaxed. Many animals came here to drink, socialize and eat. So it came as no surprise that the fallen king would find a haven in the falls; and perhaps the most iconic place for him. This, after all, had been the first place he'd met her. The smells, the sounds, the air -- even if he couldn't remember every detail, his body certainly did.
He dipped his head down to graze peacefully, the cold and semi-damp grass sustained him. Enough that his spirits were lifted, even! Of course, that wasn't something that would impact him visually; he still looked as though he'd marched his way through hell and back. His coat a grungy shag, wildly overgrown and peppered with muck from a recent roll, some spots (particularly where he laid down) were darker than other areas. His coat was also marred by many scars -- some were from disputes with other horses. Others were from dances with the wolves or big cats that preyed upon he, and those like him.
He often found young horses questioned him about why he didn't fear the creatures of night. He never was able to answer the question in full. Many hated wolves, bears, and cats -- and for good reason, too. They ate their friends, their family, their young. They made horses of all kind know fear. But to the fallen king, fear creates fear. Nothing else. A red and white horse he'd met years ago had once told him that even for as evil as they were, that they also deserved to live -- that they deserved to eat. That the gods wouldn't have brought them to this realm, if they had no place in it. And to Dreadstag, it at least made sense enough for him to make his peace with their existence, and their countless attempts on his life.
The husk of a stallion swam in his thoughts for a long, good while. And then, before he realized it, his peaceful graze had turned into a soundless snooze.