The day of Macabre’s death was still burned into Ruger’s mind. The peace upon her face had not held back the tide of grief he had felt for the red mare. The heart wrenching pain that crashed through his chest the moment Cullen’s hoof had struck, had felt as if the blow had been against him instead. It had taken away his hearing, no longer able to hear the battle raging around him, and had darkened the edges of his vision so he had only seen her body laying there. He walked to her as if there were nothing and no one else there, his golden eyes only upon the serene lines of her face. It was only the sight and sound of Wasp that brought him back into wakefulness, dragging his gaze from Macabre to the now grown mare. Ruger nearly didn’t recognize her; she had been so young the last time he had seen her. As she collapsed upon the ground next to her dam, the painted stallion had moved to stand over her. To protect her as he hadn’t been able to do her mother.


Grief still clutched to the stallion now, as he left behind the safety of his territory to set hoof once more in the Forest. It would be the last time he hoped to ever come here, as nothing but bad memories clung in every direction he seemed to look. The stench of blood caused his nares to pinch against the smell, and his ears pinned in the displeasure of the eerie silence. No longer greeted with the bird song of a pretty day, Ruger felt he was walking through a graveyard. His march through the territory was brought to a halt as an all too familiar cry cut through the all too quiet air. The familiarity of the sound caused a new twist of pain to dig into Ruger’s chest with memory, but it also lit a fire in his gut.


Pivoting towards the sound, Ruger set out quickly through the Forest. The pounding of his hooves against the winter frozen ground was not made to hide his approach, the anger thrust into every step. Only when he saw the pale appearance of Cullen to Ruger draw to a halt, his crown raised high and his black ears buried beneath his mane. “You.” The single word was growled out, sounding more lupine than equine as red began to fill his gaze. “I will make you pay.”


Ruger did not wait for a reply, nor did he care for what Cullen might want to say. Muscles that curled like a vipers beneath his painted skin, released with fury burning strength into his veins. He charged the stallion with no intent upon his own physical well-being. Much like Cain had done during their battle, Ruger aimed to slam his chest into the other stallion. To bare down on him with brute strength, as well as lashing front legs and gnashing teeth. Any weapon Ruger could use, he would use it now against what had once been his brother so long ago.