SCARECROW

Crow paced forward, adjusting to the way his hooves were cushioned by the warm sands of the Desert he found himself in. Already he could feel the warmth of the sun cutting through the chill and it felt better than he could have imagined after the exhaustion of the trip. If he had not been in the middle of an interview by a stallion that could likely kick his sorry rump to the curb with a few well placed kicks, he might have just curled up and slept.

He keeps one dark lined ear tipped toward the tobiano as he unloads on years worth of information. The deluge starts with Cain's position on the war that raged over the lands, all because one stallion had decided that mares shouldn't be allowed to lead their own herds. Rumor had it that while the fighting may be nearing the end, all of the hubub surrounding it may have drawn in others that were interested in continuing the chaos. It reminded him of home in an abstract sort of way - the fighting anyway.

As he labeled the war's cause as petty, Crow chuckled. Far too often he'd seen stallion's lose their heads over a pretty mare in heat, and he was no shining example either. "If it comes down to survival, I'd trust a mare far more than I would a stallion."

He offers it as a way to assure the stallion that he had no skin in the game either way. Personally, he felt as though the strongest herds had a team at the forefront. Two heads were better than one after all, and both mares and stallions were better suited to certain roles. They could flipflop of course - Crow knew his fair share of warrior princesses and nanny uncles - but by and large, mares were more vulnerable in general. Only so much fighting you can do when you're pregnant.

If he had to choose one, it would be stallions but Crow wasn't about to start a damn war over it. If a girl wanted to run her own herd, as long as she was capable, he didn't really give two sticks.

Next the tobiano offers a veiled warning, and the dunalino nods in acknowledgement. Don't fuck with the herd. Got it.

Kind of a given, all things considered. Crow mused to himself. No stallion wanted another to encroach on his territory, especially now with fall upon them. The dunalino doubted he would end up with any children this season, although he wouldn't turn them down. Children had a way of making the past less sharp.

Humans? I thought they were just a story mares told their foals. His brown eyes eye the tobiano with renewed respect at his trials. Humans were not something that Crow had ever encountered. They'd been whispered about, but never seen so were considered more or less a wive's tale. He doubts, however, that Cain would make up something so outlandish. They sound just as bad as my granddam made them sound. Crow watches the emotions roil over Cain's face as he speaks, but remains silent himself, letting the tobiano exorcise the demons of his past.

He is slightly surprised to hear the stallion admit to raping a mare, though the surprise comes from his honesty and not the act itself. Rape is why you don't let your daughters go to the Commons in the Fall, lest they end up with a baby from a stallion that won't bother to get their name, he mused. At least Cain had forced a mare of his own with the intention of raising the resulting foal. Crow wasn't fond of those that would force themselves onto a girl who didn't want the child in the first place, leading to a baby who had no parents to give two shits about them.

"You are neither the first nor the last to regret letting the season get to them. You seem to regret it now, which I've heard is the first step toward not doing it again." Crow says it mildly, not having changed his pace.

As the stallion continues describing his interactions with the mares, Crow develops a more whole picture of the tobiano stallion before him. It is a lot to take in, but the regretful way he speaks of his past wrongs to them, and the fondness in his voice as he describes the mares tells Crow all he needs to know about Cain. He's clearly on some sort of atonement path, attempting to do what he can to become a better stallion and to protect the mares he calls his own.

The dunalino's suspicion is confirmed when Cain sums it up, and a smile twitches on his charcoal lips in reply. He opens his mouth to speak but almost immediately closes it when the tobiano grows serious again and elaborates on the situation with Primrose. Seems he's pretty set on getting her back, if for no other reason than to atone for the wrongs he feels he's committed. That's probably where the new wounds are from. His gaze sweeps over the tobiano again, noting the fresh wounds and organizing the likely timeline in his mind. No wonder he wanted someone to help keep an eye out. Seems everyone has their own private war to fight.

The stallion's last comment earns a genuine chuckle from him. He'd hit it right on the head without even meaning to. "Actually, yes, in a way, though my past is farther away and less likely to come bite us on the ass."

He offers a grin to the other stallion, but stays silent for a few steps as he organizes his thoughts and memories. "Where I come from, horses have split themselves into "darks" and "lights," with those few individuals choosing to stay neutral or to abandon herd life altogether and turn rogue. My family, all of them, were dark and it was not a choice for me, though by the time I tottered away from my dam's hip the great legacy they spoke of was in tatters."

He vaguely remembers the warmth of the volcanic soil of his home, the acrid scent of ash, the craggy shape of the mountain outlined in his minds eye. "Still, I mostly did what was expected. Gathered a herd of a few mares, had three lovely daughters, and then lost them both to a different stallion. Falx."

Despite the years, he cannot keep the disgust from his voice. He still hated that smug bay. May he rot in peace. Flicking the nearly dry length of his tail, Crow continues, his voice back to neutral. "We went back and forth for a few years until he managed to garner the support of other allies by trading my daughterrs off to be broodmares."

The anger still lurks behind the words, but those days are long gone now. The last he had heard, his two oldest had managed to slip off to neutral stallions, and his youngest had perished refusing the stallion who had tried to cover her. It all felt so long ago now. Nearly ten years had passed since his failures. He clears his throat, aware he's let silence linger for too long. "I never managed to get them back, and I have to admit in the spirit of honesty, that I'm not proud that I gave up. My youngest died because of my failure to protect her and the shame kept me away for a long time."

He sighed again, stilling the steady climb of his legs so that he can face Cain. "I can't promise that I can fight for you, but age has given me a few skills that I lacked as a young colt. Observation is one of them. An understanding of crueler minds is another. What I can offer you is another set of eyes to watch over your family, and someone to give you a second opinion when it is warranted."

Crow pauses to guage the other stallion's reaction to this before he continues. "All I ask is for a spot in the herd, and maybe the potential of finding a companion some day of my own. I'd like to be a father again, someday."