Falls

The people here were bitter and callous, and it seemed that everyone he came across had been tainted by some experience or another and deemed his survival was their business.

And they all claimed that the odds were not in his favour.

A wiser stallion would have taken the signs, listened to the black ravens, and known that there were dark clouds on the horizon that were rumbling down upon him. He would have gathered what was left of his family and held them close and bid his farewells.

Yet he is still young enough to think that he is invincible, and yet old enough to know that it was unwise to let the chill of the water prick at his skin. He figured that he would shake it off with a great run later, just as the painted stallion and grullo mare had deemed him foolish for charging through the snow. There was no enjoyment left in this place, and for that Vercingetorix mourns for them.

Something here had changed them all.

The woman that finds him is another painted creature, still light and otherworldly. She too speaks of his foolishness, and his apparent dance with death. This brings a chuckle to his lips, a more welcome reaction than his biting words to the grullo from before. “Everyone seems to be so concerned about the longevity of a stranger these days.” The red stallion answers her, lazily turning his head towards her and letting the mist of the water brush against his cheek.

He would find warmth later, but he rather enjoyed the way the cold made his heart pump and made his skin burn. “Maybe I do have a death wish, and everyone is just sent from the Gods to warn me against it.” Oh, how little he knows. So red and so ignorant to the plans that his Gods had for him..