His time with the mix breed known as Reject boarded on several weeks now, and the once notoriously hateful Nemesis was unable to deny that his healing skills were surprisingly effective. His leg was back to normal, though his wing…. Well. It had regained some of its mobility, but there was no way that it could be stretched out to its full capacity or support his entire weight. Nemesis was effectively crippled. A kalona that couldn’t fly… His tail lashed with irritation, but this was not a new thought. Slowly, he’d been coming to terms with the loss. If the Black Skull herd had been allied with healers, this could have been avoided. He knew that for certain, now. He wasn’t sure if Maeryn would ever agree with such a thing–but Nemesis wasn’t so sure. If the kalona race were dwindling, with threats like shifters ravaging the lands…..
He used his bulk to shove through the dense undergrowth, keeping his wings tightly tucked against his sides. He still hadn’t left Reject’s home turf, and he wondered if it was due to denial. Part of him still desperately hoped that his wing could be healed, though he refused to admit it. He might have finally understood that his racist, ignorant views towards those of mixed blood was just that–racist and ignorant, but… Maybe, miraculously, Reject would find a solution. Maybe he found a full blooded unicorn willing to try… and maybe, he was still in denial.
The sharp smell of blood made him stop dead, his crimson eyes narrowing sharply as he used his senses to try and determine if he was alone. He heard no sounds, and smelled nothing but blood amidst the woods. Resisting the urge to growl, Nemesis decided to continue onward. He knew he would be more than enough of a challenge for any predator… including a shifter. His scarred wing twitched a little as though remembering what had happened during his last encounter with such a beast.
The signs of a struggle were everywhere. Broken branches and torn earth, blood and tufts of white hair. The combatants themselves were nowhere in sight. Nemesis moved carefully, his gaze flicking over his surroundings before he lowered his head to further investigate. His nose told him predator—something had been here. A bear, maybe, though the scent was strange… and he had never seen bears with white fur before. A little farther in, he saw the smashed remnants of what had been a basket with no signs of the foal within. There wasn’t enough blood to suggest it had met an untimely fate. Had it managed to escape with its parents before the attack? He couldn’t say. Nemesis nudged aside some foliage with his snout–and stopped dead as he bumped into something that squeaked ferociously in response.
It was another basket. It appeared tattered, but still intact. Quite frankly, the kalona had no earthly idea what to even do about it. He could walk away and leave the basket to its fate, he supposed. Perhaps its guardians would return… or the predator that had caused such chaos. Nemesis was no longer the callow youth he’d once been, however. Though he believed wholeheartedly in the superiority of the kalona race, the death of an infant did nothing to help strengthen that belief. Perhaps that was what his mother had been trying to tell him all along. At the very least, he had little doubt that he could find someone interested in caring for the foal–perhaps even Reject.
He paused to eye the basket once more, noting that there were a few tears but the wicker was still intact enough to protect its precious contents. As he leaned forward to try and catch a glimpse through one of the holes, the baby growled ferociously and actually snapped its teeth at him. Small, razor sharp teeth. Nemesis stared blankly for a moment in disbelief, confusion and anger bubbling up in equal measure. This could very well be a young kalona. His mother had told them stories of how young kalona, being the wretched, evil little things that they often were, did not fare well if discovered by those outside of their breed. They were rare, besides: Nemesis himself had yet to find a pureblooded female Kalona to sire children with… assuming, of course, she was interested and willing. Admittedly, he was hardly the most romantic of stallions, and his oblivious nature when it came to emotions did him no favors.
“You can’t stay here,” He finally growled, giving the basket a sharp nudge with his nose. There was a squeal and a hiss, and the basket quivered in absolute indignation. He huffed, offering another gentle shove. A tiny snarl emerged from the wicker, but the foal was stubbornly refusing to emerge. Nemesis ground his teeth for a moment, debating what to do. Inspiration struck, and he moved farther away from the scene. It took more time than he would like, but he did manage to snatch an unlucky squirrel, carrying the limp body in his mouth as he returned to the basket. He nudged the lid off slightly and dropped the squirrel inside, ignoring the squawk of protest. The foal’s outrage was quickly lost in the sound of eager snuffling, and soon, Nemesis could hear the sounds of greedy chomping.
Hunger, Nemesis thought, was a good motivator. He settled nearby, content to wait until the noises of feeding slowly faded. The basket shifted around before the top jostled–and a small head poked out to glare at the much larger stallion. Nemesis merely snorted, noting that the foal had made a mess of itself. “Well?” He asked. Normally, he’d consider that he might be intimidating to a baby… but this baby didn’t seem even the slightest bit impressed. Too young and stupid to know better, he reckoned. Though it did have a formidable set of teeth to protect itself.
Clumsily, the foal stood up on shaky legs, practically tripping out of the basket to sprawl in a heap in the dirt. Now fully visible, there was no doubt that it had kalona blood… and that it certainly wasn’t pure. The stallion felt frozen in place, staring in silence at the tiny creature that, not so long ago, he would have considered to be an utter abomination. He’d have snapped its neck without hesitation, feeling justified and–exultant in the action. Mix bloods were a plague, a sullying of the blood… but they were still of Kalona, the Raven Mocker. Who was to say Kalona didn’t have his own intentions and plans for those of mixed lineage? He had always been proud to the point of arrogance, but this… He exhaled roughly. He had been coming to terms with this, but it was very different when faced with something so small and… well, he didn’t think innocent was a proper term, but guiltless.
Perhaps, the stallion considered grimly, this would serve as part of his penance. He had taken many of Kalona’s blood out of the world of the living. Until he could find the foal’s parents, he would serve as its guardian. He would keep it fed and protected. With another rough snort, Nemesis stepped closer. “Come.” He commanded, bending to sniff briefly at the foal’s neck. It snapped its teeth at him–and squeaked in surprise when he snapped his own right back. “I’ll bite back.” He warned, and snorted when the baby blinked at him almost innocently. With effort, the foal struggled up and onto its legs, taking a few wobbly steps. Nemesis grunted with approval, keeping an eye on the baby as it slowly began to grow more confident on its feet.
He slowly led them to the clear stream that flowed nearby, gruffly helping to wash the blood that stained the baby’s mouth. He would need to find some sort of shelter, both warm and secure enough to defend. He knew admittedly little about foals, but he was hardly an idiot. It was a baby, and like most babies, would at first be interested in little but eating and sleeping. As for entertainment… Razor sharp teeth suddenly sank into his scarred tail, and Nemesis whirled around with a thundering snarl.
The baby, having been entirely focused on the twitching tail for some time now, nearly fell over with a squeak of surprise. It had its tiny ears pinned back, managing a snarl of its own… though it was clearly frightened despite its attempts at defiance. Nemesis grumbled low in his throat, carefully reaching out to touch his nose to the wary foal’s. “No biting.” He growled, and the foal's ears twitched even as it slowly leaned back into the touch. He’d clearly have to find it something to chew and play with… Suddenly aware of how momentous his task seemed, the scarred stallion wearily straightened up. First things first. A safe space where the baby could grow and learn… and then, he hardly knew what. With a grunt and another nudge to the reassured infant, he led both into the woods.
