▻ thirteen years - 15.2 hh - arabian mutt - dominant black - No Home ◅
The air was cool and the moon was clipped. It sat, mournful and pale, against a fading skyline the color of tangerines. A few crows broke free from the bare branches of the young poplars, their inky wings splotches against the soft tendrils of lavender.
No sound except the distant rush of wind through the grass, perhaps the chatter of young bucks near the edges of the meadow. He could smell the horses, far off, but had chosen to stay behind.
Seclusion was what he knew best, after all. He had kept to himself for this long. Harbored secrets inside himself and carried the darkness around. It was easier now, he had grown used to the ache of living. The knowledge of good and evil, both belonged to him.
He had decided a long time ago to remain alone. He had collected many pieces of who had been but still, there were many shattered beyond repair.
And the meadow was soft with the edges of night. The bats fluttered above his head, the gnats bit sullen at his fetlocks and hips. There was the world, full and thriving all around, and there was the lone black stallion with his head lowered towards the ground. Sniffing the dirt and the grass and the faint traces of other lives that had passed before him.
Gael