Darkness. It is the first thing that he remembers when his mind clears and his eyes open. The salt stings his eyes and he closes them again, opening his mouth to call out to the shadows at the edge of his vision but they are like smoke on the water, there one moment and gone the next. He tries to call out, tries to find his voice but salt and water fills his lungs and once more he feels suffocated. The pounding waves drag his limp form through the currents, his small body weightless in the expansive sea. When first awareness brings him back from the brink of death, he tries to fight it, tries to kick against the ocean in search of solid land beneath his hooves but it is in vain and the ocean is quick to remind him of that.

For a time, he is resolved to let himself die. Resolved to letting the ocean goddess take her pound of flesh if only it meant that he would return to the faded figure of what had been family, to a life he had known. However it seemed that even the sea had no need for him.

Pebbled rocks bruise his knees as he staggers from the ice capped waters. Pale silver blue eyes blink back the spray of salt that blurred his vision, readjusting his gaze to the world of white before him. Cold. Everything was cold and his small body shivered uncontrollably as crystals of ice form on the droplets of water that cling to his skin. Small muzzle lifts as he staggers away from the water, stumbling awkwardly over the rounded stones and dark sand. Where was he? When was he? Who was he? The questions began to pile up in his mind until the dull ache in his head strengthened and sharpened with intensity. Dark ears fold back against his skull as the young boy picks his way gingerly over the uneven earth, sifting through the crisp scents in search of something, anything that could be familiar. Anything.

He felt almost desperate. Lost amid the strange world that he knew that he should know but does not. He wants to call out, to bleat like a newborn in desperation for his mother but who was she? How would he know her? Why was it that he is unable to remember a name or even a face? Everything is just a haze and despite the number of times he shakes his head, it does not clear. He stamps a single hoof against the rocky ground. Pain. Sharp, shooting pain wrentches up his leg and leaves him in a tumbled heap of gangly legs as he falls to the icy ground. Pale blue eyes look at the offending leg to find it swollen and hot, despite the cold around him. Crimson droplets of blood appear, matting the red and white hairs of his leg in an attempt to once more form a protective scab over the torn flesh. Pale eyes blink against the pain, watching with a mixture of fascination and loss at the blood that pooled until a cold wind buffets against him, causing him to shiver and cast his gaze out. Aside from the sluggish ice capped waves, there did not seem to be a soul alive. It was he and the ice and snow alone. Once more the sensation of total loss creeps in over him and dejectedly the young colt drops his head, craning his neck to press against himself in an attempt to gain warmth. If death would claim him, then let him come.