i fought for
my freedom
my name
and my honour.

i live for my sister
i will die for my country.

.garnet stag let fulcrums shift muscled frame over terra, nails ringing hollowly upon battered land. small cresent indents mark the course of rustics passing, only to be lost in a sweep of breeze. dust billowed from the well worn path, opticals half lidded in protection. banner clamped down tight to quarters, visible hunch against the storm of flying dust. breeze passes, then dies away to nothingness. opticals left half shut for momentum, waiting for the dust to settle, then rapidly blink upon. halt, all four fulcrums braced, then vigorous shake, clouds of dirt rising from pelt like a cloak of muted brown. soft breeze tugs it away from once inhabited frame, billowing, seperarting, dying. pace resumed, steady four beat. hurrying was unecessary, he'd still get to where path was intended to take him. raised vocals on the wind, dial thrown up, auditives pricked, single fore raised. path then meandered though unknown lands of the ravens, in search for the previously ethreal hawk. brute began threading ones way carefully between trees, round bushes and tree roots that were part and parcel of the ravenglade/hawkmeadow forestry, all of which were determined to trip him up, knock him down and throttle him. strange, how todays society and heirachy seemed so akin to the wild unorthodox laws to nature, always seeking to unnerve you, to expose you. a never ending quest to knock you down the ladder, to step all over you and spit in your face. but that was life, and it was better to knock down than be knocked. that was how things were in hawkmeadow, in the whole of the thirteenth dimension. grin curved its way seductively over charcoal mug. amber opticals gaze steadfastly at ethereal maiden, highlighted only by the elusive light of the sphere that dominated the pin pricked sky. hued in the golds and ambers of autumn, time of harvest evidently drawing nigh. ebony blanket dotted with millions of tiny glows, each unique in hue, size and location. some appeared to form pictures discernable only to the mind of an equine, but standing out by far, the forn of Epona the equine goddess, surrounded by her subjects dancing the alluring dance of life and death. but enough of the mythical and astrological lessons, and back to cold hard fact. the once ethereal lady, a matching pair to the mahoganys lordship, was more than your usual ‘meet once or twice and decide you like’ friend. friendship run almost as deep as love between the two, love was not exactly on the agenda.
.fine evening is it not aloof? though to find you my travelling time was greatly lengthened, and more than likely the ravens will not enjoy having hawken royality in their midst, tough luck. o came to enquire after your health here in the glade.
.stance shifted slightly as off hind curls up and relaxes. twin peaks shift constantly, flickering like a faulty radio halfway between signals, not sure which one to pick up, catching the multudinous sounds hailing from the shaded glade in which brute now stood, far from the comfortingly open waveing grass plains of meadowian homeland. optics gaze at satumine equinity mass afore the brute, so foreign to his gaze. animosity stirs in beating heart of iron, were the rumours of a raid true. auditives twitch, sounds of all intaken, filtering through the abundant vacuous sound of the mob. stance made aside the former ethreal counterpart under frondescence of jade and emerald pigmentation. periphery scanned, every orifice, every knoll, where liquidity flows in cerulean stream. appendages whiplash over spinal region, infuriation of flies relieved as tassels swiped brutes hinder regions free of the flying menace. light squall tore ebony locks from carved dial, sending them flying in haphazard fashion. similar ebon appendages flayed the atmosphere behind the bunched quarters. pistons stiffen, muscles ready, as if sweep virile forth in promenade, but stay of desired momentum. patience was a thing hard to come by in the equine world, and brute tried quite often to exercise it, from wanting to bolt, to exercising patience with irrant younge ones who simply refused to listen into the theory and wanted to get striaght to the practical. ah well, patience is probably one day rewarding. all you have to do, is wait.

.a soldier till i die.
.a faceless fury.
.no name, no family.
.just a place in the line.

.brother to anrui.
.son of raad and aloof.


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