He worries.


The feeling wasn’t something new and foreign. It is an emotion he had been raised with from a very early age. It’s nearly all consuming, even as he looks at ease on the outside, Bacardi is nearly ready to crumble on the inside. Where was she? His Skjaldmaer should have returned home by now. Was she hurt? Too weakened by wounds to return home? Had the sea claimed her, or had she succumbed completely during the fight like his mother? Looking out across the herd, his eyes lingered longest on Kesja and the words Valka had asked of him echoed in his mind. He refused to think he would have to honor those words so quickly.


With a irritated snort, Bacardi moved away from the herd and went on patrol. It helped to reign in his thoughts by putting his hooves into motion. To focus on his surroundings; the sounds and smells that could possibly give away an intruder. But it is not the rank scent that eventually fills his nose. Rather, the chilling smell of the copper tinged crimson that makes him stop dead in his tracks. Bacardi wanted to think it was a deer or any other prey taken down by a predator. But he knew better. His heart knew before his mind could even grasp the reality of it.


When his legs thawed, Bacardi followed the scent. He could barely hear anything aside from the hammering of his heart in his ears. But he heard his name. As soft and broken as it was spoken, Bacardi could still hear it. “Valka…” he murmured shakily when he finally laid eyes on her prone form. He had never seen her so wounded before. The stones stained beneath her seeming so bright in comparison to the grey of their surroundings.


Swallowing down the lump that had caught in his throat the best he could, Bacardi went to her. Only stopping when he had reached her side. Lowering his head down, he gently brushed his ebony lips over her matted red neck. Not caring that her blood now stained his nose. “You are home, my Skjaldmaer. Please…. Please, do not give up.” he said gently, but the pain was evident in his voice. This had brought back too many memories to bear.


Raising his head, Bacardi let his golden eyes sweep their surroundings. He was worried now that her scent would bring in predators, but she had felt so cold. The mix of sea water and the ground had greedily claimed her heat. Deciding it was worth the risk, Bacardi laid down. Tucking himself against the little mare so that he could share his warmth while he carefully began to clean her wounds.

five years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"