11-10-2018, 12:33 AM
It seems that Aten could just not catch a break, and now he was sorely regretting coming out of his self-imposed exile in the Forest for all those years. First, he'd lost his dam and siblings after the Reckoning. He'd been kicked from his sister's herd by the stallion who had claimed her. He found friendship in Taiga, then lost it to destruction. He found comfort in a friend he grew to love, only to discover her heart was claimed by another, and she had changed following their home's disappearance. And now, he'd lost Ischia, a place he was looking to consider home.
That didn't mean he'd given up completely. He had yet to receive acceptance from the island nation's king about joining, but then the Plague came down with the full force of a tsunami over the land. Horses were dropping like flies with the sickness, losing their hair and spraying blood from their mouths and nostrils. Luckily, Aten had not yet been infected, but the longer he remained out here, he knew his chances grew.
He'd heard that Ischia had decided to join forces with its sister kingdom, Nerine, and the stallions and the few mares from the island had migrated north. He'd also heard of the four new islands that had popped up in the surrounding ocean, apparently safe havens for those who wished to escape the dangers of the Plague. Aten at first didn't know what he wanted to do and still didn't. He just didn't know how much more of this he could take. Losing three of his former homes... his family... his friends... the one he'd grown to love...
He wasn't contemplating the ultimate reckless action of saying goodbye permanently, but it sure felt that well in the ever-present icy-cold grip that held his heart. Fitting, considering the horses of the island kingdom he'd grown to like had gone north to the island half-covered in ice. Perhaps he should investigate, see what it was like?
But the journey would be long, especially since he'd detoured halfway across Beqanna's east side. A lot of the island horses had to make the journey to the mainland anyway, or the island near Ischia that was a safe zone. Given Aten had not yet received approval from the king of Ischia before the Plague, he'd returned to the mainland himself, retreating for the solidarity of the Forest to try and get away from the sickness.
He knew the Forest could be teeming with those who were sick, so he had to get somewhere safe. Best bet for him was to go north, where other island horses were; perhaps he would meet a familiar face, like Ilma or Brennen. Hopefully, the king was still feeling generous enough to offer the golden stallion a home. Aten was not a heavy draft breed, but his sire's side definitely contributed to his more hardy appearance and ability to better survive the chilling winters.
As it was, trudging through the snow provided little challenge for the stallion. His heavy hooves crushed the white powder as he walked atop the snow layer, only sinking in here and there when a pothole was masked. The layer was not thick, to begin with, making this journey even easier. Aten decided to stop by the River for a brief while, to rest, knowing he would need some of his strength for the trek north.
The stallion had to get much closer to the River than during the warmer months to actually see it against the white backdrop. A light layer of frost had formed over the top, but it did not stop him. Lifting a rock-hard hoof, Aten pawed at the ice until he broke through, chipping away at the edges to make a good-sized hole for him to drink out of.
Lowering his shaggy head and neck, the stallion took a long drink, his throat chilling from the frigid water. It did little to faze him, while it did cause his stomach to turn cold, he knew he couldn't stop just because the water was freezing. He needed water to survive, just like food, and that was hard enough to come by as it was here.
Lifting his head for a moment, Aten gazed around just to try and spot any trouble while he took a brief break. Some of the water droplets on his chin hair had already frozen, creating a crafty yet funny look that made it seem like he had rain falling from his mouth. Lowering his head again, the stallion took another drink, ears up and eyes gazing side to side to make sure no Plague-ridden horses could sneak up on him.
@[Ruan]
That didn't mean he'd given up completely. He had yet to receive acceptance from the island nation's king about joining, but then the Plague came down with the full force of a tsunami over the land. Horses were dropping like flies with the sickness, losing their hair and spraying blood from their mouths and nostrils. Luckily, Aten had not yet been infected, but the longer he remained out here, he knew his chances grew.
He'd heard that Ischia had decided to join forces with its sister kingdom, Nerine, and the stallions and the few mares from the island had migrated north. He'd also heard of the four new islands that had popped up in the surrounding ocean, apparently safe havens for those who wished to escape the dangers of the Plague. Aten at first didn't know what he wanted to do and still didn't. He just didn't know how much more of this he could take. Losing three of his former homes... his family... his friends... the one he'd grown to love...
He wasn't contemplating the ultimate reckless action of saying goodbye permanently, but it sure felt that well in the ever-present icy-cold grip that held his heart. Fitting, considering the horses of the island kingdom he'd grown to like had gone north to the island half-covered in ice. Perhaps he should investigate, see what it was like?
But the journey would be long, especially since he'd detoured halfway across Beqanna's east side. A lot of the island horses had to make the journey to the mainland anyway, or the island near Ischia that was a safe zone. Given Aten had not yet received approval from the king of Ischia before the Plague, he'd returned to the mainland himself, retreating for the solidarity of the Forest to try and get away from the sickness.
He knew the Forest could be teeming with those who were sick, so he had to get somewhere safe. Best bet for him was to go north, where other island horses were; perhaps he would meet a familiar face, like Ilma or Brennen. Hopefully, the king was still feeling generous enough to offer the golden stallion a home. Aten was not a heavy draft breed, but his sire's side definitely contributed to his more hardy appearance and ability to better survive the chilling winters.
As it was, trudging through the snow provided little challenge for the stallion. His heavy hooves crushed the white powder as he walked atop the snow layer, only sinking in here and there when a pothole was masked. The layer was not thick, to begin with, making this journey even easier. Aten decided to stop by the River for a brief while, to rest, knowing he would need some of his strength for the trek north.
The stallion had to get much closer to the River than during the warmer months to actually see it against the white backdrop. A light layer of frost had formed over the top, but it did not stop him. Lifting a rock-hard hoof, Aten pawed at the ice until he broke through, chipping away at the edges to make a good-sized hole for him to drink out of.
Lowering his shaggy head and neck, the stallion took a long drink, his throat chilling from the frigid water. It did little to faze him, while it did cause his stomach to turn cold, he knew he couldn't stop just because the water was freezing. He needed water to survive, just like food, and that was hard enough to come by as it was here.
Lifting his head for a moment, Aten gazed around just to try and spot any trouble while he took a brief break. Some of the water droplets on his chin hair had already frozen, creating a crafty yet funny look that made it seem like he had rain falling from his mouth. Lowering his head again, the stallion took another drink, ears up and eyes gazing side to side to make sure no Plague-ridden horses could sneak up on him.
@[Ruan]