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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    push me deep in the river, and drown a part of me forever; any
    #3
     

    There were not many beasts who ventured close to the cave he and his companion had selected as their new sanctuary - deep, deep within the bowels of the Forest.  Those who did so seemed quite ignorant to the cave’s opening so near them. At night, Faulkor would leave the holds of the ground to explore the new scents that the light had brought in. One had stood out above the others, for this one had been close - nearly within the walls of their abode! Balto has said nothing to him, but Faulkor did not question. Words between the two of them were concise and with purpose, always. When months passed with no further incident, Faulkor had forgotten or no longer cared.

    In another life, some ten years ago, Balto had been Faulkor’s beta stallion. They each had their own mares and shared the Cavern and the responsibilities of protecting the herd. Perhaps, it would have been better for the blue roan, had he stayed behind to rule in Faulkor’s place rather than follow his leader into the dark and endless labyrinth. He could have taken the star-strewn stallion’s mares as his own, could have become the King of Cimarron Island as Faulkor had so pitifully failed to do. Though, unbeknownst to both of the stallions, the entire island had sunk shortly after their departure - the dark halls home only to the sea now.

    If Faulkor felt any remorse for leaving his herd to be scattered by sea or stallion, he never deigned to express it. But, for Balto…

    The billowing of wary nostrils rouses his attention, faint though the sound was against the rush of river. Though he had not been hiding, he snorts in acknowledgement of the black eyes that have found him.

    Perhaps, he would have recognized her scent had it not been muddied with that of bear. Perhaps then, the mysterious visitor of the cave from months ago would have no longer been so mysterious. Yet, stranger still is the scent of bear upon an unmarked hide. Faulkor is curious, and he faces her fully now.

    “Hello” she says, and Faulkor smiles (though it is anything but settling).

    “Do you know where the magic grows?” he asks her - his voice not unlike the cold howl of his cave. 

    F A U L K O R



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    RE: push me deep in the river, and drown a part of me forever; any - by Faulkor - 12-19-2017, 02:02 PM



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