Step.
Step.
Drag.
Stop.
He breathes in the cold. The autumn weather is brisk and the wind pulls the long strands of his mane around him. There’s a deep, ugly wound on his shoulder. Blood has caked down his leg.
Raath has no choice but to limp across this foreign land. It had been a while since he met the black stallion but he feared his leg might never be the same again–
He feared this world he’d tumbled into might actually kill him and in his fear, he also felt a sort of contentment. Knowing you meant to die gave you peace. Maybe it wasn’t up to Lucifer but the palomino knew someone would come along eventually. It would go the way it was meant to go and he would walk down his path with dignity.
Or try to.
The golden stallion lowers his head gently towards the ground, lips at the stubble of grass and sighs. There are too many strange sounds, strange smells. His eyes wander his surroundings to make sure no one else might come barreling after him. If the lower families had managed to come after him, well, he could trust no one.
He hears the rush of the falls, not far away. And slowly, slowly he goes forward until he finds the lip of the water. The sound roars like a beast at him. It drowns out the internal speech drone. Raath lowers his head towards the water, closes his eyes.
For a moment.