KENDRY
| Eventually his trudging path leads him to not one bachelor, but two. The pair of gold-and-white stallions appear to have just finished some sort of spar, though he judges not against one another based on the way the shorter, tarnished male laps at the wounds of his older companion. One does not acquire such marks from a casual scuffle. The blood that seeps has been drawn forth by angry, wrathful teeth, and Kendry flicks one ear to the side. Here is evidence, then, of violence beget by the Lagoon. What did they fight for, he wonders idly as he sizes them both up with a quick pass of his vivid blue eyes, and how much blood was spilled by the other party?
The older and taller of the two carries himself with none of the bravado of youth; his confidence, like his age, has clearly been earned. Scars, some still raw and pink, cross his chest like a vest of medals heralding his accomplishments and mark his prowess as an accomplished fighter. The open wounds on his body will likely heal in a similar way before silvering with age as, it appears, many others already have. His poise commands an air of subservience from the stallion at his side, a darkly dappled male who holds his tongue but edges closer to Kendry before seeming to check himself, idling as if awaiting orders or permission from the one who introduces himself as Cullen.
The name demands he remember, tries to summon from the muck memories of Ruger's painted face contorted with distrust and disdain but Kendry stifles it, shoves it all back down before it can lead too deeply down a path he dare not go, not now, not with an audience before him and a life to wrest control of back from fate. That threat of pain resurfacing causes his ears to flicker backward, but he points them toward his company again as he successfully stifles the emotions that threaten still to gnaw him hollow. He imagines he can smell her here, somehow, and his eyes reflexively lift away from the bachelors to scan the trees. But they are quite alone, these three, and Kendry's attention focuses again on the Boss of the Lagoon, keeping one ear trained on his underling to keep tabs on what, exactly, the dappled palomino is up to while they converse.
"I'm Kendry," he replies, and the grin that twists his lips is not the warm, genial expression he is wont to wear but a caricature, one he holds together with his teeth as he condemns himself: "Bachelor eternal. I've been traveling, though never too far from home, and returned with the onset of winter. I've heard a bit about you, Cullen," he continues, smoothing his taut expression to a more natural grin. "So I'm surprised to have spent the season in what appears to be a ghost-territory." His smile grows only more amiable as he asks, "Where are all our soldiers and thieves?" It is a simple question and lacks accusation, carrying curiosity rather than a demand for accountability, for while Kendry does not know the bachelors have been forcibly relocated to the Peak en masse he cannot believe that their numbers are intentionally so small. Even under Kasabian's eye, when the Lagoon was not overflowing with bachelors, the group of stallions had been fairly tight-knit. Kendry has encountered only these two, thus far, and if the Lagoon is truly only populated by these three bachelors— well. His smile grows a little more.
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OF THE LAGOON |
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