11-06-2018, 09:20 PM
He sees spots —
Thinks it is the pretty spotty filly from the party on a beach much kinder and warmer than this one.
It’s not her.
It’s someone else. A stallion. One not much older than he is but old enough. Anything over a weanling’s age is old enough. Old enough to be reckless, to pick fights and break hearts. Or if you’re like Sviko, hide away behind your mother’s tail as talk of disease and destruction are whispered to the air.
He spied the flower-crown atop the stallion’s head. Summer’s king, he thinks. Wondering if the stallion had even had a chance to rule over something for an hour or a day. Of course he’s remembering all the times he played king of the hill with his brother and sister.
Will usually won. Rhae and Koko typically just shot light beams at each other. Sometimes they ganged up on Will. Aimed small beams of blue light at her until she shrieked and came after them, which was usually the idea.
He shakes his head, trying to stop thinking or at least remembering for a little bit. It’ll get better, it always does. But he turns his attention back to the equally young stallion. “It’s not the same any more, is it?”