The scent of smoke and sulfur was strong enough to cling to his throat, carried by the humid wind of the night. He could count the beatings of his heart, which was once again struggling to not jump out of its ribcage. He needed some fresh air, to stay alone and know that he needed no one beside him in order to be able to keep fighting.
No matter how hard he tried, no matter how strong the desire to forget was. That past was always there, akin to a ferocious, voracious predator patiently stalking its prey to exhaustion.
The heavy breath of the black maned stallion was scanning the flow of his thoughts and the raging emotions soaring towards the surface. The clapping sound of the plate armored hooves was echoing in the vast forest of Feralas, disturbing the troubled silence of the suffering groves.
He didn’t want to depend on someone. He didn’t want to trust anyone but himself; the memory of the Custodian who died in his arms, crippled of both arms and legs was so vivid, so p