His eyes fell to the ground, staring at a singular, dried blade of grass. His head remained immobile along with his ears, his eyes dull and unfocused as he simply watched the colourless land. Everything was falling apart. It wasn't fair. Call him selfish or greedy, but why was it his mother that had to go? Was he allowed to think such a thought? It had only been a week since her death, and already, Lorcan seemed to forget her voice. What type of a son was he to forget? Would she be disappointment in his forgetfulness?

Well, it didn't seem to matter, she was dead.

An hint of anger filled him, causing the yearling to frown to himself. He was angry at Sunna for dying and leaving the others behind.. For leaving him behind. She was supposed to be strong, not weak. He still remembered seeing her body. He still remembered trying to nudge her up, as if she were asleep. Lorcan knew she wasn't, even then. The way her body lay was unnatural. It was stiff and cold, but still, Lorcan tried to wake her. He should have known better. Nobody slept with their eyes open.

Was anybody even sad? Lifting his gaze, Lorcan's eyes narrowed as he studied the herd, pangs of anger and envy filling his heart. Shifting his eyes to his sister, Morrigan, he sneered to himself. Did she even care about her death? Was she even sad, acting so unbothered? Then, his head teetered to Atolos, frown increasing. Did his father care? He claimed he loved her so much. Well, it certainly didn't seem like it now.

As soon as he thought it, the yearling's face fell into shock, anger vanishing into guilt. How could he claim such things? How could he think such awful words? Of course they were saddened, the whole herd was. He could see it, so why direct his anger towards them? Raising his head an inch, he knew his mother would have been saddened to hear such opinions from him. This.. It wasn't like him to act so hostile and angry. What would she have said to this behaviour? She would certainly disapprove and ridicule him. She would tell him that he was better than that.

Nodding slowly to his thoughts, Lorcan was lost in them, that is, until a sound caused his ear to twitch. He did not turn, didn't even blink. The only way he acknowledged whoever was approaching was by shifting his ears towards them. It wasn't until a voice sounded, muffled by something, did Lorcan's head raise, eyes drooping as he met the gaze of Baldr. "..What do you want," he croaked, throat dry from lack of water and, well, because he hadn't spoken aloud in almost three days. His own voice was foreign to him. It was clear it caught Lorcan by surprise by the way his eyes twitched, as if he didn't recognize himself.

Clearing his throat, the yearling released a snort directed towards Baldr, gaze turning away from him and landing back on the ground. "Go away," he mumbled, turning his back to the darker male. He knew he shouldn't act like this. Baldr was Neela's son, and Neela was his sister. Well, half-sister, but Lorcan didn't think of it that way nor called her that. She was his true sister, just like Morrigan was. He adored Neela, how could he act this way towards her son and, well, technically his nephew and friend? Lorcan knew he shouldn't, but he didn't feel the need to care. He wanted to be alone. He deserved to be alone.

Baldr, it seemed, didn't pick up on his request. Side eyeing his movement, Lorcan saw a clump of surprisingly.. green grass being shoved in his direction. "It's a waste to give it to me. Go find somebody that needs it more." Shrugging him away, Lorcan paused. Should he truly let his sadness and pride get in the way of such an opportunity? His mother would have called him a fool. Almost anybody would, so, after minutes of silence, Lorcan raised himself to his full height. His neck was sore from having it hanging all the time to the point that it cracked when lifting it, and his muscles were stiff from standing in one position. Slowly, the yearling turned, averting his eyes from Baldr as he took a step forward, eyeing the offering. "Yeah, thanks," he mumbled, nibbling at the blades. The familiar taste of grass flooded his senses. It was so much better than the dried clumps he was forced to chew. It wasn't entirely fresh, many blades slightly wilted, but it was still green. It was still better.

Smacking his lips, Lorcan released a long sigh before shaking his coat out, eyeing Baldr during the process. "Show me the rest." The words came out wrong, as if he were being greedy, when in reality, he wished to see how much was left. "How much is there enough for?" It was then when he glanced at the herd, a familiar figure being spotted. Demon, was his first thought as he caught the sight of Reima alongside of her mother. Lorcan thought he was bad, always near his mother, but Reima? Pah, they were practically attached to the hip. Why she was so lively given this time, he didn't know. Maybe she had her daily fixing of blood, he thought, staring daggers at her for a moment. Had it been a week prior to when Sunna was still alive, Lorcan would have told Reima that himself, but now? He couldn't bring himself to exchange any words with her. Throwing jabs at her was always one of his favourite things to do, but that was before. It wasn't fun anymore to him. Nothing was.

Attention placed back onto Baldr, Lorcan blinked at him, as if trying to remember why he was there. Ah, yes, the grass. "I want Neela to have mine." Lorcan didn't want anything to happen to his sister. If anything happened, he wouldn't know how to react. More than anything, he didn't want Baldr to know the feeling of losing a mother. Not this soon. "If she refuses, give it to Biscotti. Just give it to one of the mothers." Pausing, he added on, "I had my fix earlier on the dry stuff. It doesn't taste so bad if you hold your breath." Lorcan was alright. He would much prefer a mother had it so that.. So the past wouldn't repeat itself. He didn't want another to feel the pain he felt. Regardless, he was prepared to follow Baldr so that he could see the patch and how much was remaining.

"Do you think there's more around?"

Biscotti

Mare || 5 Years || Herd Mare || Mentions: Herd (ind.) Reima

Disgusting. The grass underneath her lips was absolutely bitter and raw, the taste of dirt was there, indeed. Eating solid sand was better than this- actually, no, sand is the damn worst. Bark. Bark was more delightful than this, ugh. Her expression told it all. She hated it, no doubt about it. Biscotti would roll her eyes back in disgust, and casually spit some chunks of the horrid greenery out to the side and out of the way. Only to eat some more.

To get her mind off of what she was eating, the mare began to think. Was Sunnas death.. really that unfortunate? Yes, it was a great loss for her family she supposed, but for the other, unreleated mares, isn't it a good thing? Biscotti, personally, didn't mind being a herd mare, however, she knew, some of the other mares in the herd would prefer or have their eyes on the Lead Mares spot. For what reason? No idea, but the death of the Lead Mare would be a good thing in their eyes, wouldn't it? They'd be foolish not to take advantage of this opportunity to soften up to Atolos, gain his liking, and then become selected as the new Lead Mare. If she were to have her eyes keen on snatching the Lead Mare's position, she'd be well on her way on taking it. But she wasn't, probably for the best for everyone. She wasn't the leader type. She knew exactly who and what she was, but she was no leader. Maybe someday? When she got older? But who knows. Biscotti knew at least for now, she did not have her eyes on that position.

Behind her, the mare could hear faint, quiet hoofbeats. They were walking towards her from behind, and so, she moved her head to the side to get a better look at to whom was walking up behind her as she grabbed mouthfuls of the foul decaying greenery. Ah, there she was. Reima.

The yearling pranced up beside her, and placing her lips onto Biscotti's side, only reminding the mare she was lacking nutrition. Thank you for the remdiner, darling. Rolling her eyes, she moved her head foward a little bit more, taking an inch forward, grabbing more mouthfuls of food. But, she slowed to a stop when her yearling nickered softly, grooming her side a bit before speaking.

Raising an eyebrow, Biscotti had lifted her head up, her eyes slowly began to narrow down upon her daughter, before she replied, "Like shit, huh?" She took a few steps backwards, stopping when her shoulders met her chest was only a few inches from the yearlings rump. Reaching her head over towards Reima, she nipped the little one's rump a few times, scoffing, a slight smirk on her lips, "You're the one who tastes like shit," she stuck out her tongue, looking at Rei for a few moments before scoffing quietly, and nudging her daughters rump.

Biscotti wasn't the best parent, no, of course not. She knew that very clearly. However, she knew when to value someones life, and when it was appropriate for someone such as herself to show at least some caring feelings for her own filly. That topic comes up again, love. Love- it was a strong word for Biscotti, she rarely loved anything other than herself, even then, she loved herself to a certain extent. Reima? She liked her, and sometimes, Biscotti has almost come close to loving her darling yearling, however, she just hasn't managed that just yet.

"Make sure to eat. Its disgusting as hell, I know, but you need it. We still have a ways to go, and we need you yearlings to be healthy enough to survive the journey." Biscotti wanted to teach her offspring to survive, to thrive in this treacherous world, and to do so, they would need to eat, drink, and keep themselves healthy. Focus on themselves only, and no one else. That's the only way to survive a world such as theirs.

Mystral | 6 | Herd Mare | M: Open

Mystral stood, dozing, under the shade of a withered tree quite a distance away from her herd, though not far enough away that they were out of view. The tree was just tall enough so that the dapple gray mare could stand under it, harboring gnarly branches that seemed to be as dead and dry as the earth. The trunk of the miserable plant was rough and splintered, and a glance at the mare’s raw, bruised right side revealed that she’d been rubbing against the tree recently. Mystral swished her tail violently in an attempt to rid herself of the pesky bugs that were swarming her, but to no avail.

The past month had been tough with the arrival of the drought, and Mystral was not having it. The mare had been used to leading an easy, relatively calm life, and while she’d experienced droughts and natural disasters in the past, none had been to this extreme. Now, the members of the Valley Herd were dropping like flies, many succumbing to the eternal darkness of death due to various cases of starvation, dehydration, and disease. It was hellish, in fact, Mystral felt like she’d breathe her last herself one of these days. The only thing that was keeping her afloat was her imagination, the one place that she could go to escape the sorrows of reality.

But, right now, Mystral just really wanted to get these bothersome bugs away from her exposed wound which she’d gotten from rubbing too much. Maybe she’d even take a nap afterwards.

A gentle breeze came by, kindly stroking the mare’s mane and tail and making them sway before the wind faded into silence. Mystral sighed, enjoying the feeling of the breeze against her fur. It almost seemed tranquil, if it wasn’t for the miserable situation that Mystral was constantly being reminded that the herd was in. She gazed in their direction, looking at the figures of her herd mates.

Her vision slightly groggy, the dapple gray horse started to walk over in the direction of the herd. Maybe the flies would bother somebody else instead of her if she joined them.

Baldr

Stallion || Yearling || N/A || Mentions: Lorcan, Neela (ind.)

The yearling stood there, refusing to go away as the colt told him to. However, when Lorcan snorted directly towards him, he flinched, and took a small step back, lowering his head, his ears peaked forward. "I don't want to," Baldr mumbled.

Was Lorcan saying this because of Baldr's heritage? Other yearlings and mares didn't like Baldr around because of his sire's doings, and what his mother did. He didn't like it, but he didn't do anything to stop it, but he really hated it when they would direct towards his mother, Neela. It made him angry, and upset. From what he's heard, his mother was tricked, her mind twisted with some fantasy his father had promised her, and then, he disappeared and no one saw him again. It wasn't her fault, nor was it his own, and for that, he didn't understand why some of them hated or disliked the two. He wasn't fully aware of the laws, or familiarized with them, so he didn't, and still doesn't know exactly what his mother did so wrong that was unforgivable.

Watching the other yearling, his head perked up when he thanked Baldr for the rations, and when Lorcan asked for him to show the rest of it, he didn't hesitate. Twirling around, flicking his tail with a happy smile, the colt trotted over towards the fallen log, and motioned to it. Behind it, where a shadow was casted, green grass hid in the shadows, safe from the sun. Lorcan had asked something about how much was there, but it took a moment for Baldr to comprehend. "Oh, well, I think there is only enough for one or two of the adult mares, but if they weren't to have it, I think there would be enough for three of us."

As Lorcan offered his food for Neela, Baldr nodded, "Okay."

Baldr felt a little better. From how Lorcan was acting around Baldr, he didn't seem to resent or hate him that much at least. Maybe he didn't even hate him at all! That would be nice. Maybe he could be his first real friend, maybe. The other yearlings didn't seem to talk to Baldr alot, or even interact with him. He was just, there. Or, as he heard some others say, a "mistake." Wincing slightly, he sighed quietly to himself.

"More? I- I don't think so, but I didn't really search for more, kinda just found it and gave you some." Speaking of giving grass, he remembered to give his mother some grass. Reaching down, Baldr grabbed a mouthful of grass, and glanced over to Lorcan, "Ilph be backph, okayph?" With that, he trotted away, holding his head high, happy he could assist Lorcan. He didn't know what he was going through, and didn't dare to think about it, but he didn't want him to feel sad or left out. Baldr didn't like feeling that, so he knew Lorcan wouldn't either.

Now, to find his mother, Neela.

The guilt returned. The moment he saw Baldr's face after snorting at him made the male nearly step back. His flinch, paired with a lowered head and straight ears made Lorcan himself avert his gaze with shame. He shouldn't act this way, not to Baldr. He had heard of the rumors and gossip going around revolving the other yearling. Neela and her mistake. Neela and her slip-up. Oh, Neela? She caved the moment somebody gave her affection. It disgusting him, the way others spoke of his sister and Baldr. They didn't know the story. They didn't understand. Neela was lied to. She was given a false fantasy. Any mare would have believed it had they been in her place. Lorcan didn't doubt it for a moment, and the stallion that said such things? Good riddance that he was gone. Nobody wanted an individual like that around.

So, when Baldr flinched away from him, Lorcan swore to himself he would never let that happen again. He couldn't do that to him nor Neela. His sister was always there for him. As a foal, she was always included in the family, despite Sunna not being her mother. From as long as he could remember, Neela always watched over him. Is this how he repaid her? By being cruel to her son? By acting as if he were better than Baldr and pushing him away? No, Lorcan wouldn't have it. This was his family, he couldn't turn away from them.

Instead, he pushed down his emotions and followed after the other colt. The yearling wanted nothing more than to be alone, lost in his thoughts, but it was the least he could do. If not for himself, then for Neela and Baldr. Thus, on he followed, dry grass crunching beneath his steps until he arrived. There, hidden behind a log, grew the grass. It was a lovely clump, slightly wilted from lack of water, but for the most part, tall and hidden away beneath the safety of the shadows. It wasn't enough, moreso a snack than a meal, but it was something. It was food, and good food at that. "Don't, uh, don't tell anybody else about this. If word got out.." Lorcan hated to hide things from others, but a patch of good grass? It would be stomped over and wolfed down in a heartbeat once it was learned of. It may even cause disruption to ensue. Arguments over who deserved it more could break out, disturbing the herd and causing unnecessary chaos to transpire.

"We can search for some after, perhaps? Maybe there's more.." It was clear Lorcan was feeling slightly more himself. If he could find more and help, he would feel better. It's what his mother would have wanted. It's what his mother would have done. She always looked out for the herd, now it was his turn to help, even just for the day to lessen the burden for his father. Would Atolos notice? Would his father even see that he was trying to help? Maybe.. Maybe he'd even thank him..

Blinking, Lorcan raised his head, glancing at Baldr. "Huh?" He said, trying to recall what the other colt said before nodding, remembering. He was going to deliver some to Neela. "I'll be waiting. Tell her I say hello," came Lorcan's response. With that, he watched the male trot off, mouth full of grass between his teeth. Releasing a spluttered breath, he pawed at the ground, revealing loose dirt as his tail fanned himself.

His plan was to wait patiently, but something caught his attention. Moreso, someone.

"Like mother like daughter."

Ears twirling, Lorcan had failed to notice how close he and Baldr had strayed to Biscotti and her.. her devil spawn. He watched them now, observing from a small distance. Her voice was just as annoying as he remembered, her whining and grumbling filling the air. It was like a mosquito, buzzing and screaming in his ear. How did her mother tolerate it? How did she not grow deaf? Already, Lorcan felt a headache growing at her constant chatter. "Mother dearest, I don't like this. Don't worry mommy, I'll fight them off for you! Mommy this, mommy that! I'm big and strong and better than everyone!" Pah, what he'd like to hear is a moment of silence from her, that's what. Reima was all talk, at least in his opinion. Even back when they were younger, all she did was talk his head off. Hell, she even did it now, and she wasn't even speaking to him. So many words for such a small mouth. One would think that she'd run out of breath.

Lorcan hadn't even noticed that he was making a face until he fixed it, but even then, his eyes remained upon her. They were complaining about the grass, from what he heard. Good, so was everybody else. They could deal with it. Everybody was struggling, it wasn't new, and.. goddamnit, why was he suddenly feeling so guilty? He didn't owe them anything, especially not Reima. She hadn't even approached him after his mother's death. She hadn't even told him that she was sorry for his loss. Why would he do anything for her?

Grunting in their direction, he turned his back to them, staring at the grass instead. The guilt remained like a shadow over him. It was tugging at him, telling him to do something nice, but why would he? Reima wouldn't have done it for him, Lorcan knew it, but oh, he could practically hear his mother's voice telling him to be the bigger person. It's what she always told him when it came to Reima. He never heeded her advice before, but now? Lorcan felt as if he needed to, but why?

"You need to eat plenty too, Mother."

Picking up on more of her words, Lorcan released a frustrated groan, left leg stomping against the ground. This was paining him. He didn't want to do anything for them. He didn't want to give Reima any kindness. The yearling looked a sight, muttering to himself and stomping against the ground as if he were throwing a tantrum. It was so difficult. How was he supposed to force himself to do something for her.

"You don't feel sick or anything, right mom?"

Fuck.

A large portion of grass lay cradled in his mouth as he began headed in their direction. Sweat dripped from his neck, the aftermath of his tantrum mixed with nerves. He was doing this for Sunna. Nobody else but her. She looked out for everybody, even if she disliked them, which was impossible, because Sunna loved everybody. No, Lorcan needed to do this. To prove a point. What that point was exactly? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that there was enough grass to spare for one or two others. He hoped Baldr wouldn't be angry with him for taking a larger portion.

As the two figures grew larger as he neared, he felt himself nearly wheezing. He could do this. He could be nice to Reima and her mother. It wasn't the end of the world, despite it feeling like it was. It was fine. He was doing something out of the kindness of his heart. He would place it down, and leave without uttering a word, that's what he'll do. Yeah, it'll be over quickly. He didn't wouldn't even have to meet their gazes!

So, on he crept, approaching with caution. It was only when he was close enough to reach out and touch them did he lower his head, dropping the green blades and letting them flutter to the ground. "There's some fresher grass Boldr found and decided to share." Putting a good name in for the other yearling, it was the least Lorcan could do. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing." He spoke in monotone, not a single expression twisting among his features. Staring, Lorcan's body screamed for him to turn around without saying anything further, but seeing Reima there, so close, he couldn't resist. He tried, he truly did.

"Try not to choke," he uttered, staring at her before gyrating and walking off. Oh, that felt so lovely to say. It felt so natural. He missed the feeling, but just as soon as it came, it vanished, leaving Lorcan back to his typical, mopey self. It did make him feel better to help. Perhaps if he kept it up, he'd forget the pain that came with the loss of his mother..

He could only hope.

Anil waiting for the stallion to approach him, the pale goliath someone that he considered as close as his own brother. He hated to deliver bad news, he always had and always would. The grief that had struck his friends family, the loss of a fantastic mare, was no secret, and the loss that the entire herd had faced, losing so many members... They needed some good news right now.

He just couldn't provide it.

The weight on his back was a comforting one, one that reminded him his friend was there. He had never truly been one for too much touch, but Atolos had always been the exception. Always. He had been the exception for many things. Touch, emotional talks, smiles, laughs--Atolos was his closest companion, always had been, and always would be.

"We should change direction," he said bluntly, in his monotonous way. He waited a few moments, allowing himself to collect his thoughts and his words, as well as letting the words he'd spoken sink in. "There is nothing ahead of us, not as far as I'd checked, and I saw tracks of animals doubling back in this direction--they'd also found nothing."

There was nothing ahead of them worth finding.

His mind lurched, it screamed--failed, failed, failed. He'd failed to find water, he'd failed to stop members of his herd from dying, he'd failed to protect that foal, he'd failed.

He blinked, gently shaking his head and lowering it, muscles in his shoulders spasming from the exertion of running so far and running back. He would keep looking. He had to.

"I'm sorry, Atolos," he muttered, shaking his head. "We can try a new direction, try to go for a new place. We can ask Adela and Inessa if they know of any old water sources in the area. They're the oldest mares, Adela grew up here, and Inessa travelled through here. And Syren, she's Inessa's daughter, and Cadhla. Or we could keep it with the stallions, Caszius and Dez are trustworthy, Caszius might know of a water source."

Anything. Anything at all.

Biscotti

Mare || 5 Years || Herd Mare || Mentions: Reima, Lorcan, Sunna (ind.)

Ah. There was no need for mind reading, or speaking. Biscotti could easily tell. Reima, probably one of the more dramatic fillies she had ever met or seen in her lifetime.

Like mother, like daughter. Huh.

Reima had replied to Biscotti, about eating the disgusting food that surrounded with them. The little one even mocked her, a little confident there, ey? Tossing her head, she nipped at her yearlings forelock, giving her the stink eye, furrowing a brow. "Don't get too cocky there." The mare snorted softly.

As Biscotti lowered her head, ready to start eating again, she could feel eyes watching someone. But not herself, her daughter. Her eyes watched Reima carefully, and could see the movement in her yearlings eyes, to see them moving in the direction of two other yearlings, Lorcan and Baldr. Picking up her head, she turned her head a whole 90 degrees, flicking her tail back and forth, her eyes staring the two colts down, her ears flicking back and forth. However, she quickly stopped and resumed grazing, she knew if she glared for too long, someone would notice and bother her. She didn't want to be bothered by some pissed off mare. But god... that foal. Baldr, was it? The pathetic mistake. Sometimes, she could barely stand as to how everyone kept him and Neela in the herd, they were both useless pests, who broke her law, yet, they get to stay here in peace. Someday, someday, she'd give those two a good kicking. Just because they broke the rules? Ha, no. Breaking the rules just gives her leverage to kick them into the dirt.

However~ if Neela's mind was easily that easily turned, maybe.. maybe Biscotti could use that to her advantage. Such as, give Biscotti and her foal their water rations, while Neela and that disgusting creature of hers would dehydrate, yes. That would be just splendid~ and maybe, it would solve the problem for Baldr's existence. And they could just blame it on, either his bad heritage or Mother nature took its course. She almost didn't realize, that as she grazed, the peaks of her dried lips would begin to slowly widen, a smirk slowly making its way.

Movement could be heard beside them, coming the direction of the two yearlings. Biscotti had lifted her head, looking to see Lorcan coming towards them, grass locked between his teeth. She lifted an eyebrow, curious as to what the colt was doing, flicking her tail back and forth a time here and there. She watched skeptically as the yearling had set down the green blades of grass, somewhat surprised he would even dare to show them a greener portion of the land. The mare shifted her body, and moved her hooves, dragging them across the grass, using little effort to turn towards Lorcan and the small clump of grass.

As he informed them that Baldr had found this little clump of food, and decided to share it, Biscotti scoffed, doubting that whole heartedly. Well, it would be rude not to say thank you, she supposed. "Thank you colt," she mumbled, annoyed she was thanking a mere colt for a simple lump of grass. However, it was greener than the rest of the grass that had surrounded them, and a part of her wanted to find where the yearlings had found this greener patch. But then again, they needed the yearlings to be strong. Or, at least long last enough.. if the coyotes were to follow them again, there would be no hell in way it'd be one of the Herd mares, and Biscotti would make sure it wouldn't be Reima. It would have to... be.. oh, so unfortunately, it would have to be the foals, preferably Baldr.

Biscotti lowered her nose, her nostrils flaring has she investiagted them with her sense of smell, and moved them around to make sure nothing was in them. They were good. Lifting her head, she turned her head to tell Reima it would be alright if she took it all, only to hear Lorcan mutter something. "Try not to choke."

Slowly, the mare pinned her ears back against her skull, her body dead still, just before she began to move her head towards Lorcan, watching as he walked away. How dare he?

Clenching her jaw, Biscotti stamped her hoof loudly, "Now. What would your dear mother say about that? I thought she at least had some sense in that head of hers to at least raise one foal right if not all." The words she layed out into the atmosphere were firm, laced with poison, as she wanted it strike right into Lorcan's head of his. The herd mares nostrils flared, and her ears were planted against her head, her breathing slowed, her eyes sending Lorcan a death glare.