The blistering storm that whirled around him in a white frenzy seemed fitting at the moment, his chest throbbing from what he can only assume is anger – something he had never truly felt before.
Though the young stallion was only rounding his fourth year of life, his face personified a completely different age. His face was solid like a marble sculpture, worn away by sharp erosion of wind and rain. It’s almost a pained expression that he wore across his auburn face, sharp and glass-like snowflakes clinging to his eyelashes and whiskers. He blinked blindly, his indigo legs moving methodically through the crunching and unwavering snow – his mind was obviously elsewhere.
In his mind, Warrick is on a mountain. The night sky opens up above him like a hungry mouth while thousands of stars twinkle above him. And there, in the gaping chasm of black, is his sister and his mother – drawn to their stars as they always have been. They’ve left him behind to soar the galaxies together.
He trudges through the snow with an unusual sense of purpose for such a young age. The snow and frigid cold had not yet begun to bother him as he made his way through what would become a furious storm. A silver-scarred black stallion with wings that reminded him of an abyss had drawn him here, though Warrick wasn’t exactly in search of that stallion. Warrick wasn’t exactly sure of what he was in search of, but the betrayal of his mother and sister had left him with no where else to go and with a fury that was churning in his chest like thunder.
Warrick was not one to keep his head in the clouds and count the stars. His life was to have purpose and he was to make a name for himself.
In the hours and hours that had taken him to arrive here in the unmerciful tundra, there was finally something that had taken his mind off of his thoughts. Storm-grey eyes flashed toward the sounds of voices being carried on the icy wind. His head jerked upwards, black tendrils covered in ice scraping against his neck aggressively as navy nostrils flare pink. Hot breath left him as his sights become set on a small group that had formed in the distance.
He would call it intuition if he had been asked, but the young stallion had merely been dealt a good stroke of luck. He had happened to set out in the direction towards the wall, and by fate would have it, found himself here at the same time as two others were venturing towards the entrance.
It’s here, where his gaze meets the group and a subconscious decision is made to move forward, where a shudder shakes him to his core. He’s not sure, but he tells himself it’s the unforgiving temperatures that caused it, and begins to move towards them. Suddenly, the world went grey around him as the blizzard settled in and Warrick lost sight of the horses that were once before him. He was now walking blind.
Warrick’s luck soon runs out when he bumps lightly into the one he would soon learn to call Dominion. He snorts sharply, startled, and takes a couple steps backwards to regain his surroundings. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, not realizing that his voice would sound so unfamiliar in the howling wind. His eyes trace each of the horses that stand around him, not a familiar face in his sight. He had just caught the tail-end of what the white stallion had asked, and his ears flip backwards in nervousness.
“His name was Errant – he invited me here.”
WARRICK
we are infinite as the universe we hold inside