It is spring, and the snow was melting away into mud and slop. The young colt, only a few days old, stands in a puddle. He’s staring at his reflection with a grim, unwavering expression. In the sunlight he glimmers softly, undesirably. The green of his coat is nearly black, like the broad, fat plants at the bottom of the forest floor that receive little to no light whatsoever. Its color is dark and menacing, shimmering like a snake’s skin against the stark pearlescent color that splays in haphazard patches across his small body.
He continues to stare into the puddle almost hungrily, only inches of muddy water to barely cover his still-soft hooves. There is no wind to cause ripples in the water beneath him, yet the water moves as if there was. His eyes, as dark as the green on his coat, reflect the water’s movement. Something catches his attention and the second his eyes pry from the water, the puddle returns to being stagnant and unmoving. He snorts sharply, his brow furrowing as he stares at what would dare distract him. It was only a small finch, pecking at the various twigs and sticks on the ground in search of food, presumably. Maugrim’s lips twitch into a scowl, his ears tipping backwards to touch his neck. The bird takes no notice of him yet, happily hopping through the mud and brush. I hops closer to where he is standing, noticing the puddle and at the same time not showing fear yet of the foal that stood above it.
Maugrim’s teeth clench tightly in his jaw, his eyes brewing angrily as he watches the bird. It edges closer, chirping with every hop. “No,” he whispers hauntingly, his head lowering slightly. The bird continues to move forward. Swiftly, the water from the puddle moves as if it has a life of its own, surrounding the finch in a not-so-perfect bubble, and pulling it into the puddle. “It’s mine.” Maugrim’s voice is steel as he whispers through clenched teeth, watching the bird flail helplessly between his two forelegs as the water pins it down beneath its shallow surface. He could hear his mother now, her soft voice echoing in his head. “My dear, we don’t hurt helpless creatures.” He had purposely stepped on a lizard that was in his way, he remembers. “Now his mother is going to be worried if he doesn’t come home.”
The colt’s face twists and the water bubbles angrily as it tries to shove the bird into the mud, waiting for the movement to stop. He was not given permission to be here on his own. He didn’t care.
Something new tears Maugrim’s attention away from the splatter of water beneath him. At first he tries to ignore it, obsessing with the bubbling water beneath him and the helpless bird he was torturing. But soon, the sound of the humming was too much and the colt lost his focus. He closes his eyes tightly, green lids coming together as he screws his face heatedly. “No, no, no,” he whispers to himself through a clenched jaw. He opens one eye and he sees the bird ruffling its feathers, breathing heavily. With a swift movement of his foreleg, he stomps.
From afar, it appears he had been merely playing in a puddle.
His face calms almost immediately and he looks up to see a violet filly traipsing through the wood, humming happily. He stares at her emotionlessly; still standing over his puddle that was now a shallow grave of a crumpled bird. Thoughtlessly, he steps over the puddle and begins to walk towards her at a spritely trot. The chill of winter was still in the air, and its bitter against his fresh skin. He halts and continues to watch her as she moves, picking her way carefully as if she was searching for something. His face remains motionless, and his short tail flicks against his haunch. He hopes she is not looking for the bird. He snorts to bring her attention to him if it wasn’t already.
“Are you looking for something?” he asks quizzically yet with concern, his voice light and delicate with the sound of his youth.
maugrim
god make me pay like the devil i am