His hooves were made of lead, his heart was made of steel and his eyes were pure silver. His body shimmered in the sunlight, brilliant and rippling and burning like a stream. His mane fluttered and floated like a dieing bird, embers from an ending life, falling falling falling and then... nothing. But he wouldn't die today, but there was no guarantee for tomorrow. Never a guarantee for tomorrow.

The thought of Death always sent a chill down his spine, an uncontrollable fear that sent him on the alert, his instincts flickering and crying and aware. Self preservation was something that all animals had etched into their minds, with little notes here and there on their hooves, teeth, and hair. They were built to survive, and if they weren't, too bad. You either got with the times or had Death breathing down your thin, finely arched neck.

The Darkness was around, always, death was always watching. As a wild animal you live and you live and you die. Very simple process, the stallion thought with a snicker. He had tried many times to give Death a face, a black wolf, a black Friesian stallion, a white Shire mare.

Whatever face it held that night, Death came to him and taunted him. The wolf nipped his heels, making him bleed and strike out. But the wolf was swift and evaded his attacks and bit at his belly. The Friesian lashed at his neck and back and bit at his face, and Anarchy tried to fend him away but he simply vanished, and was attacking him from behind the next instant. And the white mare would step towards him, and he would step back, but she would entice him forward with her gentle words and kind promises of a forever warm and comfortable existence. She would gentle groom his withers and play with his forelock, and then he would die.

The wolf and the Friesian stallion would dive for his neck and he would drop to the ground, air escaping him as he began to drown in his own blood. The warm crimson surrounded him and he went into a fitful sleep for all of eternity, screaming his agonies even though nobody could hear him. But the mare whispered in his ear to go sleep, and he lay down beside her in the crook of her massive neck and closed his eyes and she sang to him and then there was nothing.

There is no middle for death, it's either slow and painful or quick and easy. And you're either heroic, panicked, afraid, or accepting. Again, no in between. You could be two, but never more, and you were never happy when you died. Not the normal ones, though, the mad ones and the old ones where death was a relief. They had served their time and were ready to go home, to meet their sire and dam and friends.

The brute loped towards the lake, his pace easy and relaxed, but fast and with purpose. He had no purpose right now, but he could simply drink and wait for the grass to green enough to be tasty. It was approaching, that time when his land was plentiful and his foals could romp in the greenery and gather apples from the few trees he had found on the far side of the territory. The area was open and safe, he had made sure by scouting the area time and time again for signs of predators.

His pace slowed, his hooves crunching the sand and gravel on the coast of the lake. It was small, as was typical in it's winter. He had lived here long enough to know that. He didn't know much, but he knew that. His silver eyes flicked in the direction of small outcropping, the little cave he lived in.

His mother had told him about stalls, how comfortable but frightening they were. There was only one way out, but you were too big to escape. And so you would wait and get hungry and want nothing more than to forage and graze and provide for yourself, but you couldn't. The ground was either hard dirt that would grow no crop, or it was concrete. Harsh and unforgiving concrete, he had been told, but he had never touched it. He never wanted to touch it, he thought with a grunt.

Lowered his muzzle he drank silently, no sound other than quiet contracting of his throat to carry the water where it needed to go. The territory was utterly silent, his lands were uninhabited as far as he knew. He hadn't seen a soul in days, and they were doing a very good job of hiding from him. Hibiki had been sleeping off a deer hunt she went on several days ago, and the old buck had beaten her bloody but she had eaten well. She had left the rest for Draco, if he was still here. She had spoken to him about mentoring a pup, but had never made up her mind. He didn't care, one less wolf to teach about equine mannerisms and sore spots.

His sigh turned into a lonely nicker, calling for feminine companionship. Where had his mares gone? His mother had left as well, the stress of her life was catching her up and her sanity was leaving. How much longer would his remain, he wondered.

Shadows bleeding through the night
Where a love once shined so bright
Fading without reason...
And it's the last night on Earth
Before the great divide
And there's no such thing
As a beautiful goodbye...
Bruised and battered by your words
Dazed and shattered, how it hurts
Didn't I tell you I loved you?
Was that not enough?

"Master Oroki...why is the water red? Did someone bleed through it?"

The great, dark stallion actually chuckled, regarding his inquisitive ward with something that was almost affection. Silly creature, he often wondered why he kept her around, but she was...refreshing. These lands of the Darks (Darks indeed, barely any of them knew true darkness) had a habit of stagnating, and he never was able to visit the Light lands without killing something, so he rarely got out of the lands of shadows. Having Anko beside him was, though hard to admit, a change. She wasn't moronic and silly, or even light and playful, like most foals her age, yet she was still curious and playful, with an understanding for most things that he could be proud of.

Protecting her was second nature to the handsome Dark, as was evidenced by the way he favoured his right fore leg. Fresh slashes grazed across the taut skin, and Oroki remembered vividly the feel of soft fur and muscle under his hooves as he screamed and lashed out at the cougar as she lunged at the lanky bundle that was his ward. Youkai had been immensely fortunate that he had some compassion and rational thought, somewhere in his soul, for the knowledge of her own children and his esteem for the wily feline had been the only things that had kept him from bringing his hooves down on her head in a blind rage that even he could not completely understand. Rational thought, because he knew Anko had strayed too far, and she had been soundly beaten into following him nose to leg afterwards.

Now though, she ventured a little forward, her dainty hooves touching the red-tinted water as it lapped against the shore. Looking up at him with her bright brown eyes, she asked the question again, and she shrugged and smiled slightly - that smile was creepy to most, but Anko had grown up with it, and did not find it a bother.

"No one knows why it is such a colour, Anko, though tales tell of it being the place of a great battle, years ago."

He knew it wasn't true - the colour was merely a thing of nature, but he found she liked to find things out for herself just as much as she liked stories. Now, the little filly sniffed at the water before stepping back, her skinny rump pressing lightly against his knees.

"Were you there for that battle, Master Oroki?"

He chuckled and shook his head, even as his nose caught the scent of other horses. The Lake of Blood herd was returning, or on the move, and though he normally had no quibble with them - his charm and intelligence were a boon there - he did not trust anyone, especially now, when he was injured and with an unknown foal at foot. Looking down, he knew she had smelt it too, and her brown eyes were uncertain. Nickering quietly, he nudged her forward with a rough tenderness.

"Come, Anko, we must keep moving."

The water did taste like water, just as it had when she had visited the place with him. The clarity of the memory - a memory that had been, up to that point, foggy - caused the mare to jump though, and she nearly lost her footing. The sound of the stallion jumping into the water, his curious call, only added to the shock...and then a sort of melancholic irritation; he had distracted her, and now that memory had flitted away.

She hardly had the right to be angry with him though; it wasn't like he knew, and this must be his terra. Must be...the herd must have changed since she'd last come; he didn't look much older than her...maybe? She didn't know, and now wasn't the time to chase her memories.

Her toffee coloured body was taut with wariness as he came closer, and she watched his eyes and chest carefully. The chest, her mentor had always told her, was the telegraph that told you what a creature was going to do next. The eyes, she looked at, because most eyes looked at her desire, and later, disgust and fear. She didn't put much store in the second - that'd probably come later, when he found out what she was. If he found out what she was. Her messed up-ness...she had no desire to spill her cards right on the table at that moment though, but nor did she see desire...apart from curiousity, perhaps even friendliness. Of course there might be that...she was a mare, and of dark breeding...it'd only be if she was a Light that it might be otherwise.

It was safe, for the moment. Almost peaceful - the situation had even shut Shinigami up for a moment, though he was muttering something about foals and why she wouldn't partake her bloodthirst on them. Crimson blood, innocent blood and oh look, another mare. Now why not do her in? Won't oblige me and Anko rolled her eyes, mentally howling at him to shut the fuck up so she could think straight should she need to flee. Or would he rather her distracted, so anyone could take advantage of her? That shut him up, and Anko smirked at her victory even as she watched Anarchy.

Lead stallion, neh? Oh well, she supposed it was only polite to give her own name back...he could easily drive her away, but he wasn't, and she didn't feel like running right now. Opening her mouth to speak, it was cut off when the other mare spoke. Consort to the stallion? Must be, and with a foal at foot too, the foal that Shinigami had been clamouring for. However, Anko had never, nor would she ever, harm a foal, and her gaze was one of curious amusement as she watched his paranoid mother pull him closer. How cute, she liked babies; she didn't envy them their parents, seeing as she'd been too young to remember much about hers. Oroki had been her parent, and he'd abandoned her from what she could gather, so it was easier to lay aside envy than stew in it.

Anko almost laughed at the names Axisha rattled off. Severely Damaged? Oh vey, that could be her name if she felt like changing. Physical perfection - although she was too damn skinny and lanky for her own liking -, yet a total mental screwup without even knowing why, and not able to explain it. It was partially why she'd kept to herself the past couple of years...though that too, could be attributed to her last oh so interesting encounter with a herd. Or it's stallion, to be more precise; he'd tried, and scarred her, but he'd failed too, and had been left with infertility at the hands of her malicious humour and her well-placed hooves.

Amusing as she found it though, the mare merely tilted her head and said in a silky soft tone much unlike her normal bright, rambunctious nature,

"I do not kill babies of any kind, least of all foals. It'd be like destroying the face of innocence and sweetness."

That said, she looked back at Anarchy, her brown eyes alight with the curiousity that Oroki had fallen in love with, or as close to love as he could get.

"Anko," she drawled, "I am Anko." Ward of Oroki... she added silently. She doubted Anarchy would recognise her, or any of them would if they did know Oroki; he'd been quite a bit older when he'd had her, and she'd changed a great deal from that scrawny, lanky little sprite of toffee and dark red hues. Anyway, if they did, they might ask questions that she couldn't answer.

improvise, it clears the air of lies

He hated it.

That feeling of longing that dug deep in his gut, eating him from the inside out like some sort of parasite. He watched his colt with his dark eyes, each one burning with... hatred. He longed to feel the small body break beneath his pressure, he could just bite the little thing's neck and have him broken with a quick toss of his neck, one violent and graceful motion and it'd all be over...!

But he wouldn't, he'd hold his tongue and watch with wretched thoughts as the dam and foal nuzzled and flaunted that bond in his face. Stop it... his mind's voice rumbled in warning, he wanted to be a part of it. He wanted to reach out and touch them, love them, shelter them with his hide that he worked so hard to keep tough so that they may be hidden. His nostrils flared as he dragged in the scent of new birth, no, old birth, the foal was a few days old now. Get away from her, he warned once more, he didn't want anyone to touch the shrine that was Axisha's body, they weren't worthy to touch her, not even he should glance in her direction!

He turned away with a quick, shuddering gasp, struggling to gather his thoughts and chase away the demons that kissed his ears and whispered to him those vile thoughts... The ones that sent his thoughts sprawling and caused him to claw so violently at reality so that he wouldn't be swept away into his own mind and dreams. He could feel it, the blood pooling around him and choking him, and even when he tried to run away it clung to his legs and mane and tail, the crimson ooze gluing the strands together so that they blocked his vision and hindered his movements.

Anarchy gave his tail a quick flick, glancing towards the mare that had arrived and just given her name, it was... He had heard it, he knew he had, he had looked towards her with full attention, watching her lips as they whispered unspoken words that no one was supposed to hear. How easily it had flown off her tongue, she must have spoken her own name a thousand times and he couldn't remember it, a mere second after she had muttered it! With the whole world an audience he glanced towards the trees, his eyes pleading as if the crows would help him. The black birds bobbed their heads, dark eyes teasing him with their infinite freedom. One fanned his wings and cawed, drawing the stallion's attention to the gravity defying antics of the avian.

With a quick, bending flap of his wings the bird jerked towards the air and vanished within the sky, his once concrete and solid form trickling away with the freedom flight offered. My friend, evolution has been kind to you! A grin fluttered across his lips and he glanced around with renewed excitement in life. He glanced toward his mate and offspring, grinning wildly as he lipped Axisha's forelock with renewed vigor and love.

He cast Anko a passing glance, suddenly uncaring that she would witness such an intimate moment. Father sheltered mother, mother sheltered young, the way it had always been. He inched towards his mate, pressing his chest to hers and draping his neck over her shoulders. He purred lightly in his throat, a deep and rumbling song that told her how utterly pleased he was with her. His ears flicked towards the strange mare, his eyes suddenly dark and possessive as he parted his lips.

"Do you wish to join our herd, Anko? You may, if that is what you want," he gave his tail a swish of emphasis, "otherwise you are welcome to leave."

His tail swung like a pendulum, cracking against his hocks like little whips that bit at the hardened skin. His ears swiveled with boredom, a baby chick fluttering about his pen with no care in the world because it didn't yet know that the only thing between it and death was a lazy old dog. His lips drifted apart and then fell shut with relaxation, his dark orbs glancing lazily about the clearing and time slowed for a blissful moment.

Trees, each one taller than the next and covered in pine needles, other than the occasional deciduous tree, leaves swaying and white bark welcoming. Dirt, rocks, moss, delightful patterns in the grass, long green blades lurching with the soft wind that caressed the new life, just like it caressed his colt's fuzzy frame.

The sapling remained tightly pressed to his mother, small ears pinned back and hidden within his shaggy mane. His face had a fine, neat curve from his elegant Thoroughbred blood, his chest deep and his legs long and clean. His small tail swayed to and fro in a happy gesture, small eyes stuck shut with a blissful awareness that he was protected and loved. His black pelt was dark as night, the small spots on his muzzle and forehead like little beacons to... tell the world this is what was important, his eyes of deep chocolate and his lips of pale gray.

Innocence! It beamed in his large dark eyes and his long, lanky anatomy. The stallion lacked this beautiful, potent thing, it had been lost long ago. How he wished his foal-hood had been like this, cuddling beside his dam and sire in the comfort of the forest, lurking in the darkness and then jumping out, screeching with pride and tackling his siblings. Such excitement there would be, he would constantly be moving like the little song bird, hop hop hop I don't know where I'm going but I'll get there!

The stag glanced down at his hooves, eyes glazed over from his rampant thoughts. His mind took over and suddenly he couldn't focus, all that mattered was that his foal was beautiful and his mare was stunning; there was a mare on the other side of the lake, an idle threat that claimed to be no threat at all... Never trust the enemy, Anarchy, never trust the enemy. Even if you don't know that she isn't the enemy, because she may be the enemy and she may be a liar, enemies are notorious liars!

He was suddenly aghast, that someone could like to him, someone could lie to the great twitching beast with the name of rebellion! His hips swayed and he backed away from his mare and offspring, eyes curious as he turned towards Anko, taking a few steps closer. He flicked an ear towards Axisha, I'm not leaving, I'll never leave you, my dear. Just a temporary absence, oh how I regret it.

His auds pitched back and his head jerked skywards, chest expanding as a scream threatened to escape; lips parting and let ting out a quick gasp, white nostrils flaring as his head tucked down suddenly. His ivory foreleg rose in an imitation of the spanish walk and he took an elegant stride towards the forest, pine needles cracking beneath his dark hooves. The king had arrived, the affectionate jester hiding behind the thrown, to take command when all was peaceful and good. The peacemaker let out a low grunt, turning towards the scarlet mare to wait for her response.

improvise, it clears the air of thought