castillon of the prairie.

“Don’t do this, son.” His father’s words were patient, but warning.

Castillon’s black-lined, gold ears turned backwards (though they didn’t pin) and his lips pressed hard together. It took everything to keep him from verbally snapping at his father, feeling angrier and angrier with each passing second that crawled by where those blue eyes so gently implored him. Zevulun would rather the islands think the Prairie a place of easy-pickings. Garmr had come relentlessly season after season until he succeeded and, now that he had, who was to say he was done? If Castillon just sat here waiting… how long was it going to take that bastard to dismantle all the peace his father had so tirelessly built here?

After Aura was he going to move on to Hirka? To Eira? Would he come for his father’s herd? For Lir’s? And Zevulun thought they should just sit here and allow themselves to be picked off one by one.

A hard irritated breath blew out of Castillon’s mouth. This might’ve been the first time (or the start) of when he and his father were no longer seeing eye-to-eye. Youth and the arrogant confidence that came with it was giving Castillon the belief that he knew how to lead in ways his father didn’t.

“I’m not just your colt any more,” Castillon finally managed, his voice somewhat shaking with emotion as he struggled somewhere between wanting to cry (which made him feel like an ashamed child) and wanting to lash out physically to express the irritation swelling inside him. “I am the second of the Prairie and when I say this is for the benefit of our home, you should trust me on that.” His brown eyes locked with his fathers and his chin lifted.

He did not realize it, but that was the moment he finally looked so very close to his mother.

“Or do you regret naming me future heir of this home?”

Silence. Father looked at son and the son looked right back at him.

“Fine,” the older stallion said at last. “I trust you, son.” But though his voice said it, Castillon could see that he didn’t fully believe it. That was just as well, he could not believe in him all he wanted. Castillon knew what he was doing.

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The last conversation he would be having that day would be with two grown individuals and, perhaps, two young ones. Castillon’s heart felt heavy, but he pushed forward, knowing the importance of allowing each and every one of his family members to voice their opinions about his choice. Unfortunately it was not going to change his opinion, but he had to offer them the right at any rate.

He came across Nephilim first where he was dutifully watching over Vervain. Vervain. Castillon's heart ached for his psuedo-sister. She had been kept for an entire year in the Lagoon and, though Castillon had not learned the entire story, she had returned with a little foal at her hip. Whatever she had been subjected to during her imprisonment in the Lagoon had changed her, and Castillon felt chilled to the very bone to think of Aura suffering the same fate.

Or Hirka, or Eira, or Chati.

Castillon grunted briefly at Nephilim. "C'mon, I need to speak with just you and Chati and maybe the boys for a moment."

Nephilim looked worriedly at Vervain and then nodded, turning to trail after Castillon until they made their way to Chati's side.

“Chati,” Castillon called out to her with a smile warming his lips - even heavy-hearted as he was from the day, just being near the mare soothed all those aches on his heart. “I… I have to leave for a little while, just until mid-winter.” He was sure she might’ve heard murmurings from the herd if she spent time near them that day, but he explained it in his own words anyways. “Nephilim will still be here, of course.” He hoped that would help lessen any anger she might feel toward him for this decision.

Out of every horse he had spoken with that day, it was Chati’s anger and hurt with him that scared him the most.

whoever makes my baby cry is gonna lose some teeth tonight
stallion ∙ mutt ∙ zevulun x riesling ∙ buckskin snowcap ∙ 15.3 hands