There was no birdsong. There was only a hallow breeze that swept the weaklands, bereft of any foliage or shelter. The land was deprived of any promise of hope. There was no sunlight, either. Only the grey clouds of the fall cloaking the cold plains. The occasional leaf fluttered on the breeze, but it was browned and withered. It was the only evidence of life elsewhere. The decaying corpse of a once mighty paso fino stallion only contributed to the hopelessness of the weaklands. Flies and biters clung to the mangled body, feasting upon the meal laid out to them by the cruel drafts. For them, a place like this was paradise. Every now and then, Warren wished he were nothing more than a biter or a fly. Then again, how would he ever avenge his family and rescue that most dear? It was these thoughts that would sober him into reality. Reality was a harsh place. He didn’t like it much, but it was better than what came with his sleep. In fact, he was sleeping less and dreaming much more. He would wake up cold as he watched the seasons change without the comfort of his herd. Alone, he was wait for winter to quench the land of the little energy it held to support life. The colors of fall were beginning to become tiring. The fall painted everything brilliant colors that only served to pale his outlook and pale the ghost of a carefree colt he once was. He often wondered what things would be like without drafts. Life would be a whole lot better. That’s what he always came to. Without draft, Tartarus would’ve had no power, and everyone would be at peace. But right now, staring at the almost fully decayed corpse of his father, the dream of peace never seemed so far away. The youth’s fiery brown eyes fell shut, hardly able to withstand the force of seeing the mighty stallion—once so strong and proud. Now? His sire was broken down and beaten. Defeated.

Defeat. Oh, how he loathed that word. Just the thought of loosing made his blood boil. His lids parted to reveal the defiant eyes of a colt, not even looking down at the sickening sight of the felled equine at his hooves. He didn’t need to linger here any longer. Besides—staying in one place for to long be dangerous. He could be found. He released a snort and angled himself away from the body, pointing himself in another direction. But where did this lead? To the North? That’d be where he’d find his sister, if anywhere. But no… He couldn’t find her yet. He wasn’t ready. Frustrated, he raked his talon through the earth with a huff of powerful air. Why wasn’t he ready? Because he was—No. He was not weak. He tossed his head with defiance and finally set his pillars in motion. He wasn’t sure where he was moving, but it was away from that place. It only made his thirst for revenge all the more impossible to quench. With his ears pinned back to his skull, he kept moving forward, his back turned to his father and turned to his past. He was on his own now, and he didn’t need anyone. He didn’t need the help of his dead father to seek out his revenge. He would find it himself. If he ever found those drafts that had dared harm his family, they would be in for it. He might have been small, but he was fast. The drafts wouldn’t stand a chance! He snorted with a smirk shining in his eyes. He could just see their looks of astonishment as he beat their sorry asses into the dirt. He lashed his black tail, slicing it through the air like a powerful whip and released a snort. He felt his heart pounding against his ribs with the thought of beating them enveloping his mind. But then, he thought of something else. He could see Flidais’ sweet eyes misted with tears as she screamed at the top of her lungs, struggling to break away from the cruel drafts that seized her. He could see her little silver overo body being shoved away by powerful hooves, and these new thoughts made him slow down his purposeful pace, until he came to a full stop. His eyes stared blankly ahead, ears not pinned back nor forward. He paid attention to nothing in particular. He was lost in the memory of seeing his half sister taken from him. He finally shut his eyes. He did need these thoughts. What he needed was do something about it. He needed to get his sorry ass moving and stop feeling sorry for himself. He had to make sure it never happened to anyone else, and made sure every draft would pay for what was done to his sister. And most of all… Flidais would be freed once and for all.

With that last fleeting thought, his eyes snapped open. With a shrill winny, he threw his torso into the air, stabbing at the air with his sharp talons. The colt‘s hooves slammed into the dry land and he hit the ground running and a full gallop. His eyes were locked ahead, knowing he was careening towards the South. The wind buffeted his body like a bird flapping it‘s wings against a cage, tugging his mane and streaming his tail behind him like a streamer or a flag. He thundered across the wasteland, the wind whistling in his ears while he kept his mind firmly set on the idea of defeating the beasts of the North finally. He tossed his head, but kept himself silent from then on. He could not raise alarm for drafts to stop him. If they even hear me, I‘ll just be a big blur! he thought in a bit of a too-cocky manner. Warren was often over-confident. One could only hope he wouldn‘t get into too much trouble. As if to emphasize this, he gave a low rumble, not loud enough to be heard by anyone but the colt that raced towards freedom. He was positive he would rescue Flidais once he breached the line between these barren Wastelands and the South. Maybe I could even fight alongside Theseus! That brave stallion must have been so handsome with rippling muscle and a high head… at least sixteen hands! Maybe he was a dutch warm blood. Or maybe even a Cleveland bay! He smirked, imagining the stallion racing into battle against a few lumbering drafts, and he would be racing right alongside the powerful leader. I‘m gonna be just like Theseus one day. he vowed firmly. By the Fates, I swear it!

I wanted to backpedal. I wanted to push rewind and still be wishing after Mega, knowing that he was out of reach, and respecting the boundary between us. Knowing that I couldnt have him would be easier now. It would make everything so simple... there would be no questions to ask...no uncertainty. What did he want from me now? Would this change how he felt about me? How he would expect me to behave now that I belonged to him? I sighed, knowing that it didnt matter. Mega was a gentleman, he would never expect something from me that I was not ready to give. He did not deserve all of the doubts I had about him, and I knew that I was not worthy of anything he had given me. He deserved better than a second class weaklander mare. He deserved someone who was whole...but he had chosen me...so maybe he did not think that I was anything of the sort. Another sigh escaped my slightly parted lips. My life was an endless maze of maybes.
Mega came up beside me, close, but nothing to suggest intimacy. There was nothing in his stance that read anything more than silent companionship. That was something that I craved, but surely he knew that I loved him as more than a friend? Surely he knew that I did not fear his touch? Surely he understood that I would not pull away from him?
I yearned to pull him roughly into me...to show him that I was not fragile and weak. I was tired of doubting, of having to question every moment of the time we spent together. I sent him a sidelong glance. How could he stand to be so close, and yet not even look at me? Where was the greeting? A word? A touch? A sound? How could he not want to touch his muzzle to mine in greeting? Did he not feel the same magnetic pull that I did? Or was he simply very good at hiding it?
I snorted and shook out my mane again. This was cold companionship and nothing more. So stupid to think that he really loved me. I was a friend...nothing more.
His muzzle touched my ears, and mussed the hairs on the side of my face. He took a deep breath, stealing away my scent in his nares.

Branwen. I'm back.

I nodded, letting his loving tone soak into my ears. Maybe he meant to say more. Maybe he hoped that his tone would help me understand what he meant...I was not sure. All that I knew was that my head was resting against his shoulder, that I felt like I was going to break down on the spot, and, most terrifying of all, that something had changed. I wasnt sure what it was, but it frightened me. It frightened me to the point that I wanted to be ignorant of it. I wanted to keep this small, uncomfortable section of bliss and ignore the change. I was being stupid to not confront it.
Something had changed, and I wasnt at all sure that it was for the better. So I left it alone. I let it float into non existance. it was not so hard to ignore...right? Wrong. I met his eyes cautiously, not at all sure what I would find there. Meeting the change face to face, I still could not say what it was, so I forced the destructive words off of my tongue.
Whats happened, Megatron Tsukiyomi?