Ulysses, the Rabicano Stallion

Domain: Nomadic Colour: Black Rabicano Dust clung to his coat and turned black to sable, mane tangled and spun through with debris; yet his eyes gleamed, amber-gold, and an his horn glinted brass and silver. When the moon broke the clouds he rose on his hinds and shook himself, his bugling cry loose and tumbling across the coal-coloured hills. It was a statement, a challenge; he called out again, twice, three times – ears swiveling to hark the reply. When nothing lingered but stillness he dropped to all fours again, jet hooves scoring the earth with intolerance. He had been running forever. He had followed it here, or, had it followed him? The night had come suddenly, light snuffed out in one harsh, cold whisper. As moon broke over the hills again he recognized this place, and it sent shivers through his being. Not here, he whispered to the darkness. Not now. Not again. The stallion turned, casting his gaze from one ribbonous horizon to the next but only shadows greeted him, air hissed through his nostrils as he tasted the wind. If it was here, he would find it; he would find it and drive it back into the night from which it came. He would not concede, and it would not be allowed to claim this world. This he swore, and his cry echoed through the stars. Clouds swirled again, an ever changing mosaic, scattered glimpses of a future divined. When they parted the sky was burnt copper-gold: heavy in the east the Winter Moon, the Dragon Moon, rose slowly to meet her sister in the sky and begin again her reign over Kalidore...

Children of Ulysses