Kreios
wildcat of the falls
I stand at the edge of the kingdom, my expression as unreadable as my dark eyes look over the valley that spreads below me. It has been years since I had last been to the Dale, and despite that it still feels like home. There is no replacing childhood, I think as I see the little pond where Kratos and I had chased frogs, and the wild-flower filled meadow where we had spent hours playing ‘the warrior and the diplomat’. In the distance I see the outline of my grandmother’s mausoleum; its sharp angles are a bold contrast to the gently rolling hills of the Dale.
Though it seems as though I could step across the border and be returned to my childhood, I stay at the edge, waiting to be invited in. I am no longer the little spotted prince with a broken mouth; I am a king in my own right, with loyalties to a land not so different from the Dale. I have heard that the war is over, but I had waited several more weeks to travel, knowing that sometimes rumors are false, and not wishing to risk leaving my kingdom when it might need me the most.
I know that my kingdom has nearly always been allied with the Dale, but I am also aware that the last agreement had been between Tiberios and Ramiel. I am not Tiberios’ successor, but rather Tiberios’ co-ruler’s successor’s successor, along with Ygritte. Who knows what might have changed between that agreed alliance and our current one? I am here to answer that question, to ascertain where our kingdoms are in relation to each other, and to reestablish the alliance if the current ruler of the Dale is so inclined.
I let out a low call, my tenor voice pitched higher than usual. I’ve only just begun to grapple with the kingdom’s gift to me; sometimes my voice emerges with a wildcat yowl, and other times it is only the call of a stallion. Today seems to be a good day, and to confirm that I shift my hooves to paws. Yes, I say to myself as my front claws rake the soil in front of me, today is a day with magic. I’m content to wait until someone finds me, and in the meantime settle down in a sunny clearing of the forest to browse at the grasses that grow in plenty.
i’m screaming the name of a foreigner’s god