Every man dies
But not every man truly lives
He is nobody now.
But being nobody isn’t so bad. The absence of everything that has preceded his transformation to being a nameless horse is freeing in a way that Kellan can appreciate. Without a name of power, there is no responsibility, no worry or concern. He’s not sure if any of his siblings still remain, if any of their descendants still roam these hills. Family has become nothing more than a word to him. A concept that had enveloped and dominated his life was nothing more than a cloak he’d cast off long ago.
Kellan can’t be sure why he comes to this place. Something in the back in his mind - a sensation that he cannot quite put his proverbial finger on. The way the shadows leak out from the crevices of the earth to take possession over every living thing, including himself. The pale buckskin slows to a halt, the slanting light of the evening casting his own shadow far out in front of him. The shape reminds him of another creature.
Kellan blinks, dismisses the idea, and flicks a solitary ear to the side to see if there’s anyone wandering about near by. It’s been a terribly long time since he’s seen another horse.
