Rain soured the surroundings of the already sodden mare as she sprinted through the maze of grass, fear in her silver eyes as thundering beats pounded consistently behind her, seeming to be in synch with the dribbling sound of the light yet vast stretch of rain. All was dark around her, and her already worn back ached with the pain holding the small colt, which strained to whicker in distress at the chill. Oh, but she was prepared.
Her black cloak hung loosely around her, shielding her entire body, including the foal, from the sharp cold drops that soared down around them. Swords were tucked neatly into the loops just in case, but honestly, they were only for the threat, there was no possible way she could get them out in time to actually participate in a battle. Smoke bombs hung loosely from the strings of the cloak, if a quick escape is needed. It wasn't the best, but if she tried, she might be able to manage with it. The beats pierced her ears louder and louder by each second she ran, bulky and immensely terrifying neighs roaring what seemed just on her heels.
Her legs, gouged and bleeding from the patches of thorn viciously torn through, began to sink as the muscle slowly softened. Her joints ached, the cold seeping into them and seeming to freeze them into a fragile sculpture, almost to where they could snap.
The mountains were a slur of grey in front of her, so close yet so impossible. The ground already began to get rocky, sharp knife-like stones cutting into her frogs with unbearable pain. Yet as much as it took to bear, she knew this much, the foal had more power than any horse needed to gain control of, and these slaughters where not going to graze a hair on its drenched coat as long as she was alive. The finish soared in her brain with victory. She knew she was going to make it. That is when she realized her nose was barreling downward toward the ground.
Her hooves slipped from under her, tossing her helplessly into the air. The pounding hooves, now an easy few feet away, stopped. This was it. She had failed. It wasn't that far, she could make it! Yet, she knew she could not. As much as she dreamed on and on about how she would save the Erenekin House, it seemed a long away vision for any horse. There was really no reason to pout about it, for it was not unusual. With the last breath she had as she plummeted to her doom, the brittle black mare whipped her head around and bore her acidic gaze straight into the cold depths of her pursuers' eyes, "Burn in Hell, bastards!" And she was gone.
Her muzzle snapped with a shuddering creek as it slammed into the ground, the whole planet seeming to quake. Her neck wrenched to the side in rhythm with the collide of her body and the soft flesh ripped open, revealing the snapped bone as well as the pale pigment left in her horrifyingly thin tissue. What really got to the witnesses was the absence of blood. Surely this mare had to bleed, she was alive, right? Well, no matter.
The Guardians looked down at her with a snicker and kicked her body with heavy pique toward the mare. They did this repetitively, for perhaps hours, until many a hollow hole that led to her insides had been gouged. Red ooze caked the massive horses' coats, a foul metallic odor wafting from their coats. Their eyes were shot with intensity and a sure trait as they stared down at the already flushed body of the deceased mare. Almost as if on a signal, they both let their colossal heads fall, their sharpened fang-like teeth seizing the cloak and plucking it off.
They let it go and watched it tenderly cascade through the rain, looking as though it dodged every drop of rain as it seemed to drift toward the heavens, soon nothing but a small spec elevated in the shading gray sky. Almost like they had to make sure it was gone before they could proceed, the Guards watched until it was fully out of sight before their heads swiveled around and their eyes rolled down to meet the tiny colt. He was not much to look at, a weak toning bay coat and clear silver eyes soon to turn blue as the years swept by. His whole frame was nothing but bone, skin, and hair, no sign of muscle or body fat anywhere on him. He looked nothing more than a shabby class commoner crawling among the streets in the House. Even though, you could practically feel the heat of nobility radiating from his small frame. This was him. With that settled, the giant murderers had whisked the foal in their jaws and were nothing but far blurs now, giant specs with the shadow of a small figure dangling ahead of them toward the darkness that engulfed the lands.