As summer turns toward fall, both mornings and evenings have become cooler, and these are the times in which Kendry finds himself most active. He anticipates the changing of the seasons eagerly, ready for frost and frigidity to replace the relentless heat, and ready most of all for snow. Much like he’s avoided Salem his entire life due to its complete lack of cold, he’s been drawn toward but not-yet-acted upon the impulse to visit Tinuvel. Fall always reminds him that there’s an island where the sun does not burn so hot and for so long, and as he strolls through the Meadow on this fine evening he considers for the umpteenth time that perhaps this will be the year that he ventures to the northernmost isle.
Tonight, though, he walks through familiar terrain, appreciating the dry whisper of the tall grass that brushes against his knees while he considers something that’s been bothering him since his return. Kendry has recognized zero scents in the Lagoon, hasn’t even mingled with the bachelors living there and has, in fact, spent the majority of this time roaming these common areas in search of company. Which doesn’t bother him: the pale stallion has never failed in making friends and he’s never really been afflicted with loneliness given how content he is with his own company.
What bothers him is how untethered he feels, how aimless his life appears to be.
Before, he had an awareness of his mother on the Islands and the additional company of Psych, plus all the other interesting horses who crossed his path—all of this bolstered by a sense of belonging. Before, he’d assumed that feeling came from living in the Lagoon. Now? Kendry snorts and pauses, thick neck arched as he considers the narrow game trail he’s been walking without really seeing it. Without Psych to gravitate towards, he feels no real draw to the Lagoon. Without an established set of company, he feels no sense of belonging or purpose— which leads to the thought, the long-unacknowledged truth, that Kendry has been trailing others his entire life. Even now he follows a pre-established path, simply because it’s there.
Before, Kendry had no problem doing that, but now? Setting up shop in the Lagoon around a bunch of strangers and falling into the ranks of stallions (and mares) he’s got no connection with does not appeal to him. In fact, it repulses him. Who knows what their missions are, what they want to do? The Lagoon has always lacked cohesion. Kendry has begun to realize his own desires, and he holds them firmly at the forefront of his mind. No longer will he bend to the will of others for lack of anything better to do; he’s not a juvenile or some aimless colt at the mercy of his or anyone else’s whims.
He snorts again, then turns to cut his own path through the tall grasses as he strides further into the meadow, great head bobbing with each step as the sky’s red glow fades to a pleasant purple-gray overhead. |