Meadow

Zharko watched the older stallion approach, still often taken aback by his very friendly demeanor. They had spent the season together and he had grown used to it. Still, the time of his past had not yet outweighed his present and the scars had not even lost their scabs, let alone started to fade into his being. Still, the red stallion was forever a soothing balm on the child’s soul. He would never admit it, but the season of companionship would forever blanket the child’s life. Comparing how his life had been to the moment he had come across Cinnamon, Zharko knew the difference between temperment and treatment, and how others in the world could treat and be treated. He could not completely open himself, but his dark eyes looked at the other man with a depth that went below a simple passing thought.

The boy grinned slightly, and shook his body; mud, dust, and dirt flying from his pelt. Proof of battle. He said simply, continuing with the subtle joke he had no idea that a change of inflection could have shifted the meanings, only the turn of his lips gave the slightest indication he was playing along and found humor in their jest. His face fell at the mention of swimming. With the air warming around them, he was still wary of the temperature of the water. He trusted Cinnamon to know, especially since he had clearly just come from the water. Still, Zharko could not help but fear that if he entered the water he would once again hear his brother’s panicked cries or feel phantom skeletons against his flesh, begging for protection and guidance.

His eyes flickered for a moment and he shook himself out with a stamp of his hoof. He would do this, if only because he did not have answers. If the dead came to speak to him in the water, at least he would have that and be able to move onto the next step on a new island.

They were in no rush to get to the waves, and Zharko listened quietly as Cinnamon explained what he knew about their destination. The boy was thoughtful. Had events not played out as they had, he felt as though a colder world would have suited him well. Had he remained at home, with the comfort of a family and other bodies around his he would have been able to survive a colder winter. His homeland, he knew, was often gripped with chill. His family thicker and built to withstand it. Still, compared to the other foals of the season, he was small and he knew they questioned his chance of survival, so they had attempted to seal his fate.

Zharko’s mind had been wandering towards the future when half of Cinnamon’s sentence stopped him dead in his tracks. Ears flattened hard against his neck, vanishing into his growing mane and his eyes widened. He knew what claiming mares was. He had witness what his father had done to the mares of his herd and the brutality behind the actions. If Liland was ‘nice’ and condoned such actions, the boy needed to reconsider his own definition of ‘nice’. That’s not you. he snapped at the stallion, showing displaced anger for the first time in their relationship. His mind ran through the words that he knew. There was nothing that came to him to define the opposite of brutal, cruel, evil, or toxic. Nothing came to the tip of his tongue that he could place on Cinnamon to differentiate him from his blood sire. You’re not… cruel. You are… He was clearly struggling and the frustration was clear on his otherwise void face. His lips peeled back in his own internalized anger at the implication Cinnamon would do these things to another. ...humane. The words were hard for him to piece together. He remembered mares begging at the hooves of his father. You have mercy. Zharko spoke with such conviction his words could have been law. Just as quickly as his anger his gripped him, once Zharko had made his point explicitly clear, continued on their otherwise quiet and amiable trek towards the beach.

His feathering hooves hit the stony beach with crunches of movement. With each step he invisible fought the hitch in his breath and the skips of his heartbeat. Ready. he mumbled without even breaking stride and walking himself into the surf.