Silence is not the only company he keeps for long.

Someone is quick to spot him among the leaves and vines, and Mikhail's keen sense of hearing is almost as quick to pick up on it. The dull squelch of hooves through mud makes his skin crawl, lip curling in disgust as it grows louder and louder until at last it stops. Any reasonable man would turn and see, or barring the presence of sight, would at least prepare for the worst. But not Mikhail. He's not nearly invested enough in himself to brace for an attack on his person.

But when the stranger begins talking, he quickly realizes he doesn't need to.

It's not a voice he recognizes ― but after nearly a decade away, he never would've expected to be even acutely familiar with any of the bachelors. Of course he's wondered what's become of the men he used to know; he'd heard through the grapevine that Rade had made a glorious comeback, successfully usurping the Lagoon's throne out from under his own son of all people. What a vicious game they played. Not even the politics had changed, rabid dogs still snarling after scraps of meat and the title of alpha. Vipers in a nest hoping to gain the fickle trust of the most untrustworthy group in the Islands. How the Lagoon had lasted so long, warped as it was, was beyond him.

Lazily, one ear flicks towards the unfamiliar voice, the distant wail of birds and murmur of moving water fading into the periphery of his attention. There's youth in his voice and Mikhail wonders, distantly, if he's met the same fate as so many other colts ― traded like a pawn to the Lagoon for the sake of power and propriety ― or if he came here willingly, looking for the adventure that so many coming-of-age stallions crave. He himself had longed for it once, back when he was far more spry and far less morose than he was now, with his creaking joints and fading hearing.

"No, I haven't lived here in many years. I was born here a long time ago. My father was a Lagoon stallion, my mother his trinket, and so I was raised here. It doesn't seem much has changed." He gives a thoughtful tilt of his head. "So either you Lagoon boys have turned into complete idiots, or by some miracle I'm growing my eyesight back." Like it was some missing body part that could just be regenerated, as if by magic. Ha! If only. Perhaps next he would fantasize about sprouting wings and flying.

The painted stallion turns until he's fairly confident he's facing the stranger, milky eyes gazing through him and into vast nothingness. "What's your name, bachelor?" He asks, voice rumbling through the still, swampy air.

---

who knows upon what soil they fed
their hungry thirsty roots?

fifteen. georgian grande mutt. bay tobiano
of nowhere. blind. felony x zhenya. pippa.