02-13-2017, 09:19 PM
A powerful red road stallion galloped through the Field, relishing in the fact that the winter cold was over, and summer was finally here. He threw his head, letting his mane flutter around him, and bucked in a moment of slight joy. He let out a snort as he slowed to a leisurely walk and flared his nostrils, taking in the beautiful scent of the summer. For the first time in a long time, he felt content.
He hated winter…the ground was too sloppy, the grass was too icy to eat, and the winds were too bitter. Spring wasn’t much better…the storms soaked the earth, making the ground gloppy and difficult to traverse, and the copious amounts of mud caked his pelt in an unappealing fashion. Autumn was okay, but definitely not his favorite time of year. Yes, summer was the time Diable Rouge really flourished – his thick muscles rippled underneath his glossy fur, the grass was fresh and sweet, nearly melting in his mouth as he chewed, the landscape was covered in the most beautiful greenery – trees, bushes, grass all thrived in the hilly Beqanna fields.
His moment of joy subsided quickly though; it usually never lasted. His joy came in short intervals, and were few and far between. Rou was only truly happy as a colt, and not really even then. The atrocities he had witnessed and outlasted poisoned the hell he called his mind. Memories from his past haunted him, and being a happy equine never was his goal.
Goal – What were his goals? He couldn’t even remember what his goals were before his mother’s murder.
Murder- He wondered if the bastard that killed his mother thought he was alive, if he even knew, if he could even comprehend… that he didn’t have the strength to kill everyone.
Alive - Was he truly living? Or merely surviving in the cruel world around him?
Diable Rouge shook the thoughts from his head. He had become a master at ignoring his anxiety-riddled cranium. He had been alone for so long, he had no choice…with nothing to distract him, he needed to ignore his notions or he would go insane.
Rou finally ended up at his favorite grazing and napping spot. He exhaled in relief – finally he could focus on nourishment, instead of the thoughts that envenomed his head. Under a beautiful red oak, by a slow-moving stream, the stag dropped his muzzle and began to consume his afternoon lunch. A soft light glimmered through the leaves of the oak, enveloping Rou’s striking red coat in a mellow glow. After a while of grazing, the stag loomed under the tree, locking his legs for a mid-day siesta. Many horses avoided this place in the Field, worrying that if a rain were to hit, they would be swept away – as if the stream was a huge hurricane. Rou laughed at this belief…hurricanes, sweeping streams, tidal waves were not something to fear…no, the real nightmares were other people.