To say Khar’pern is lost would be an understatement. Truly, the mare no longer felt certain of her place in this world.
Today finds her meandering through the meadow, halfheartedly grazing at random snatches of grass more from boredom than actual hunger. Life in the high reaches of the Peak have kept the desertbred mare lean, favoring the ability to exert stamina and endurance over the necessity to fill her belly. It was a lesson in discipline and control that was more than mere second nature. The lack of concentration did give the mare an oppertunity to lose herself in the depths of her thoughts as she followed the gentle swaying of the breeze.
Where did she belong?
It was easy to stand proudly and say the Peak sisters, but to be honest…. What had she ever done to be proud of? Yes, she faced countless stallions in battle and won many victories in the process. She had secured the freedom of quite a few slaves kept shackled in the depths of the Lagoon…. But she also chose the General Khyber to sire her children. That alone had left more than one vile taste in the mouths of the Peak mares. As dismissive of the painted stallion’s origins as Khar’pern tried to be, even she was not oblivious to the hard stares her daughters earned from time to time. Did it matter to her that Khyber was a Lagoon bastard? Yes. But even she was not so numb to her emotions as to ignore the fiery inferno that burned in equal parts love and hate for the stallion. Theirs was an affair born of passion. Neither was willing to give up the lifestyle that they clung to. But now, alone in the meadow, Khar wonders if it was the right decision for her to make. Could she have ever had something more with Khyber? Would he have walked away from the Lagoon with her? Was that not the same reason she held such distaste for Marceline? A sell-out. Those were the words that had spat from her tongue and yet, look at her now. Were they so different? Did Marceline, too, find herself gazing up at the very Peaks that continue to draw Khar’s distant gaze?
’Oh my goodness!!!!….’ The youthful tenor of a young voice immediately draws her back to the present moment and to the young, familiar-looking face staring up at her with vivid green-blue eyes. Raven-tipped ears flex atop her skullcap as the moonwashed mare tenses out of instinct. Long, sleek neck curls inward, as the woman tries to readjust herself, snorting a soft breath dismissively in response to his words.”It’s fine” she manages to grumble with a quick shake of her head once it becomes clear that the youthful stallion was not on the offensive.
A single brow arches as silvery glass ooids study the loud what mask of the apologetic youth. The sad smile on her whiskered lips softening. ”Son of Nahawi.”
Khar'pern
The jungle is dark but full of diamonds;