Meadow

He wandered until his hooves came to rest on the familiar sands of the crossing. How many times had he scoured these shores? Countless... yet he had never uncovered a trace of his mother. Coming to a stop at the edge of the ocean's frothy surf, he felt the water tugging at his feathered legs and wrapping around his hooves. His cold gaze fixed on the horizon, where the early sun brushed the sky with gentle hues of pink and orange. A deep yearning settled in his chest, a loneliness that ensnared his heart. An emptiness lingered within him, one that no amount of laughter could ever fill. She was gone. She had ventured into the sea with them, her speckled crimson skin a stark contrast to the dark waters. How could it be that he had lost her? He was meant to be her protector, the one destined to save her.

His gaze drifted down to the sand beneath his hooves, and self-loathing washed over him for every misstep. He inhaled deeply through whiskered lips, his sides heaving as tears filled the corners of his eyes—he mourned her absence. He felt it in his very bones: the day they entered the sea would mark the last time he ever saw her. He held himself responsible. He cursed his Fadir. He blamed his foolish gods.

In frustration, he tossed his head toward the brightening sky and released a guttural cry that shattered the morning's stillness. It was a long, mournful sound, echoing his pain and regret into the tranquil air.

He glared at the heavens for a moment longer before stepping onto the firm sands, moving deeper into the crossing. His frosty gaze lowered as he trudged slowly through the meadow, paying little attention to his surroundings. He heard the soft calls of birds among the nearby trees, the gentle gurgle of a brook, and then, with a thud, he collided directly into the hindquarters of a crimson and white filly. Startled, he stumbled back, his ears pinned against his head. "I’m sorry, I’m sorry," he stammered. "Are you okay?" he asked the pretty filly he had just bumped into.