Meadow

At first it had been subtle but persistent, like an itch he could not quite reach: an annoyance, but one he could ultimately ignore in order to enjoy the peace and quiet of a Lagoon without its bachelors.

Now it has infected him like a disease, spreading through his bones like fire. Gent’s mind and body have taken on a life of their own, tiring him endlessly with their needy squalling. Walking helps to alleviate the restlessness in his legs, but he cannot seem to stop his thoughts from spiralling in an endless circle. Where is his family? Are they safe? What if they got caught up in all this? How is Diamant coping on Tinuvel? What about the Peak? Has Gent done enough? Could he have done more?

Gent is unused to caring about anything quite so much. The real question, he cannot help but think, is how he became so wrapped up in the affairs of others, half of whom mean nothing to him. I’m growing soft in my old age, is a thought he sometimes amuses himself with.

Given he’s largely been lost in his own head much of the time, Gent has paid little attention to the handful of stragglers left behind in the Lagoon, among them a few new faces. It had been hard to ignore, however, when a veritable giant of a stallion arrived one day, his creamy coat bold against the dark greens and blues and browns of the Lagoon. Gent had watched him with interest for a few moments, before returning to his grazing. He had not seen the stranger again after that, and had forgotten about him entirely.

Then, one day in the meadow, there’s a whicker. “Excuse me.”

Gent lifts his head, squinting against the afternoon sunlight, to find himself face-to-face with a stallion’s thick neck. Above that neck is a pair of eyes looking back at him with curiosity, and a mouth asking a question that takes a moment for Gent to process. His expression is empty and unassuming, his blue eyes distant as he replies, “Gnome? No… No, I’m afraid not. Sorry.” He offers the stranger a tight-lipped smile of regret, then turns his head away, hoping the stranger will move on so he can slide back into the whirlpool of his thoughts.

Something bids him to look back, however. The stranger is striking, with his color and build. There aren’t many - if any - horses on the islands who look quite like him.

“Hey, hold on a second,” Gent finds himself saying, and his expression is a little brighter now, with the light of interest in his eyes. “Have I seen you around in the Lagoon? Or your twin, by chance?”