One moment he is touching the hard piece of the seal, guarding it, and the next it is gone. The boy tenses, on the outer edges of panic, but stills again when he can feel the seal, like a weight inside of him. A thing that binds him to the others, to this half-world, and to a feeling of eternity. Conquest’s answering shriek of fury makes the boy shiver, but he is glad when it offers them a moment of respite, the minions retreating (though he feels uncomfortably that it’s more of a regroup than a retreat). With the lull comes relief from the stinging, itching pain – it is a dull feeling now, an afterthought. He has a moment to take a much-needed deep breath, another moment to glance at his companions, a third heartbeat to feel uneasy at the way the world flickers around them, almost becoming real again sometimes before fading.
Tempting them with the thought of home, but of course they cannot have it. Three vanish from their midst and a part of Rhonen is bitterly jealous – they are able to return to their families. Or so he supposes – he cannot think that they are dead, because he cannot contemplate that fate for himself.
He is so focused on the loss of three of the thirteen that he does not see the lamb – not until the very last minute, as the creature steps down onto the second of the seals. In the split second before the explosion, Rhonen curses himself and all of them – how could they not have remembered that there were four seals? It is only logical that the lamb would try to open all four – they could have prevented what he feels in his bones is to come. But they did not prevent it, and the resulting explosion shakes him from his uneasy rest and he shifts restlessly, jittery, looking for the source of the noisy approach. Their group does not spring into action immediately, still shaken from the second explosion, not until they have caught sight of the red-eyed second stallion.
Warship growls a command into that silence (’Run! The Seals!’) and the boy who has fought even the slightest authority all of his young life with snarky responses and half-assed rebellion is stirred for perhaps the first time to instant obedience, rocking back on his haunches and launching himself forward to find a piece of the seal. Somewhere deep inside he knows that his weapon of choice will get him nowhere with War; Conquest might have been talked around, if he was so inclined, but this new doom simply wants them to die. Faced with such an enemy, he chooses to heed the commands of one whom he assumes has more experience (Warship certainly looks the part of seasoned warrior, and when Rhonen had glimpsed him fighting Conquest, he had been suitably impressed).
He is still in the lanky-not-quite-an-adult phase, but no longer in the awkward-can’t-find-his-own-legs phase of growth, and desperation and new experience serve him well, ducking out of the path of several of the minions. A piece of seal has already caught his eye, a large piece, and untouched because it lies directly behind a sickly green crocodile, its attention focused ahead and the piece laying innocently just inches from its spiky tail. Rhonen slows his approach, to quiet his footsteps, and manages to reach the shard without incident.
The world shifts for a moment when his outstretches muzzle makes contact with the shard of seal, tilting sideways before it rights itself, a heavy weight settling deep in his chest beside the first. But his audible sigh gives him away to the giant reptile and the heavy tail is swinging towards him, deadly fast. Doing the first thing that comes to mind Rhonen launches upwards, tucking his forelegs tightly to his chest and snapping his hind legs up to match the arc of his body as he soars over the scaly appendage. He is graceful and new-penny bright as he soars through the air, but the youngster has underestimated the flexibility and speed of his opponent. Sharp, uneven rows of teeth drag bloody furrows across the boy’s haunches and loins, and it is by sheer luck and not skill that the jaws do not close on an errant limb. Upon landing, he is off like a shot, and the crocodile seems uninclined to follow. Perhaps it is lulled into restfulness because the air is so cool around them, or perhaps it seeks easier prey.
His group has scattered, but Warship is easy to see, struggling with the monstrous War not too far from where Rhonen is running, pushing through the pain and the thought of his own blood turning his coat red alongside the brownish stain that has become Hickory’s blood. War has his jaws closed around Warship, a fearsome sight, and something of that loyalty that the young stallion struggles to comprehend blossoms in his chest and he drives forward, snarling an incomprehensible threat against the creature that threatens the man that Rhonen has claimed – however temporarily – as his commander.
Long strides bring him to the duo just as Warship is dropped and scrambles away, and the boy plows right into War’s side, legs kicking and teeth snapping as he tries to land a blow on War. He does not want this doom unleashed in his world either – War would gladly kill anything in its path, even Rhonen’s peaceful family. His dream would never be a reality. But the creature merely laughs at him, barely more than a colt, ineffective and untrained. “You are no warrior,” it drawls, landing a fierce kick to Rhonen’s shoulder that sends him skittering away, shocked at the pain radiating from the blow. “You will fall beneath the feet of my horde,” it continues, leaving bloody tracks to match the crocodile’s on Rhonen’s neck where the boy fails to dance out of the way fast enough to avoid the distinctly un-equine teeth. “Everyone you love will die.” War adds with a sly smile, reading the youth’s worst fear through his fury.
That is too much, or perhaps the boy has no sense of self-preservation. He lunges again, ears pinned, to strike at the creature’s chest with his hooves, to snap at his face with teeth never meant for war. It is probably useless – he has no training for this, merely the impotent fury of a child to drive him. An emotional response if there ever was one, and not the actions of a warrior with any sense. War shoves him to the ground with another forceful swing of his mighty head, leaving Rhonen struggling for breath in the dirt, and leans in. “I will enjoy watching you fail to protect them,” the stallion says in explanation, and then leaves the young stallion to scramble to his feet, still winded, and limp towards Warship with an expression that borders quite closely on despair. “The unbroken seals,” he says, half to himself, dark eyes searching for them. It’s a half-finished thought – can they keep whatever lies beneath the other seals imprisoned? Should they?
cliffnotes: Rhonen breaks away to search for his seal when Warship yells. He takes it from behind a crocodile creature and is injured. Then he moves forward to try and help Warship, and has a brief tussle with War before War leaves him to go after someone else. He goes to Warship and attempts to suggest preventing the lamb from opening another seal. Feel free to use him, he likes to think he can help/protect especially his little "group" but he's moving pretty slow now and has lots of ouches.
![[Image: U5duKtst_o.gif]](https://images.imgbox.com/2f/f9/U5duKtst_o.gif)
Aubri & Rhonen [twins]