Meadow

He is jealous of his brother in every way possible. Yoren had the affection of both parents in his life, born to a land that was welcoming and embraced his presence, and never had reason to doubt everything. Snow doubted his entire being, his worth in this world. He was but a mere dark smudge in his mother’s life that had happened while she’d been alive, a mistake that the dark stallion had concluded himself; his mother never dared to call him such, calling him her little shadow.

Was there a hidden meaning then, her little pet name for him?

Born to lands that were not so forgiving, lacking the luster that was the inlet his mother eventually brought him to, and he lacked the family his brother Yoren had in the beginning; Snow was set on his opinion of not belonging for these very reasons. Sometimes at night in his dreams he recounts the day he was born in the lagoon, neither lush grass or an open blue sky to comfort his entrance, instead greeted by darkness and trees that in his young mind then had appeared to be leaning in to grab him up within their clawlike branches. His mother had urged him up, hurried to send him off but a dark beast stopped them from escaping, and it was perhaps the only time he ever saw his mother truly angered and trade blows with another. It sealed their fate though.

Maybe for all these reasons, is why Snow continuously picks at his brother. Hate me, his mind whispers ever so gently, eyes almost pleading behind the indifferent reminiscing mask he wears, everything would be so much better if you’d strike me where i stand now. Yet he does not, even with the stabbing words Snow throws his way to rile him up, to one day force his hand. Today Snow would continue his sad existence.

“I’ve ruined a lot of things in my life brother,” the words are sad, his voice cracking at last but he turns his eyes away from Yoren or else the other male would see the unshed tears glistening in his dark eyes. He ruined his mother, ruined the bond she’d had with his supposed father, and broke their family apart. It was all the lagoon’s doing, Neassa would have said at a time like this, but all he had now of her was her mirror image in the form of his brother. His words did nothing to soothe the painful ache Snow feels in his chest, and the loss of what he used to have was more evident than ever now.

At his brother’s next gentle suggestion, Snow swallows back his hurt pride to look around the meadow. Yes, rest and food sounded nice. “Okay,” is Snow’s one worded response, sparing Yoren a meek glance before taking the lead in striding away from the beach on which they stood. His mood is somber and on the verge of lashing out, showing in the way he stalks across the grassy plain with his head lowered and ears that swivel back when another warm body wanders close to the pair of exhausted brother’s. Snow finds them a place out of sight in the trees, where at last the black stallion let’s himself collapse onto the ground with a gentle huff of air escaping his nose from the impact. The grass tickles him, a pleasant feeling that he can’t help but to give a roll and shimmy in place with flailing legs that if one were truly focusing on the display, a few of those kicks were aimed in his brother’s direction; the younger sibling trying to score a cheap shot on his brother.

When Snow rights himself, the grass around him flattened and turned up now, he levels his dark gaze on that of his sibling. “We could just live here you know, the two nomads kicking it alone here in the meadow,” he muses over his suggestion, tucking his legs into his body and then looking out at the horses that hadn’t been scattered by the brother’s appearance.