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“Between fighting off trolls and giants, minotaurs and human invasions from other lands, you take too much upon yourself. Last time—”
“Last time was a mere scratch,” Andros cut him off.
“You lay abed five days with fever and lost most of the blood in your body!” Chiron practically shouted, bushy brows raised aloft.
“And yet I live,” Andros batted back. “Hale and hearty as always. Besides, our people have you, Chiron. There is no pressing need for an heir.”
The general opened his mouth to argue further.
Andros hurriedly added, “There is something to be said about bloodlines, but I believe a leader should be valued on their merits and actions. The next ruler of these mountains does not have to descend from my line at all.”
“But—”
“Not all of us can be as fortunate as you, friend,” Andros said more teasingly. “Finding true love with Ione. How many colts and fillies do you have at last count? Five? Six?”
“Eight,” Chiron muttered, his cheeks darkening with embarrassment and discomfort. But also pride.
Andros whistled and grinned.
“Your virility is commendable.”
“Females…” the general said roughly, clearing his throat. “They like to be…covered when they’re carrying.”
“And also when they’re not carrying, clearly,” Andros said, still grinning.
Chiron glared at him, blushing harder, as a familiar look of stubborn determination settled on his face.
“’Tis overdue that you choose a mate. There’s no lack of options. No lack of women throwing themselves at your feet everywhere you go.”
Andros looked away, focusing back on the young stallions laughing and talking excitedly amongst themselves, eager to make this journey.
“’Tis unnatural that you don’t even lie with a female. After all these years that I’ve known you…”
“Enough,” Andros finally rumbled, spearing his friend and advisor with a quelling look.
“I am content as I am. For the last time, I do not need a mate.”
“But are youhappy?” Chiron made one last effort to change his mind, his tone almost pleading.
Andros clenched his jaw and turned away.
Happiness was not written in his Destiny.
“I trust you will guide the stallions as always on this important journey,” he said over his shoulder.
“I look forward to the mating ceremonies upon your return.”
With that, Andros walked away, long black tail flicking in dismissal.
When he was out of sight of the stronghold, deep in the hills and valleys of the surrounding terrain, he broke into a wild, unrestrained gallop, shifted into full stallion and raced even faster.
Pushing his body to the limits. Then pushing even harder.
His hooves barely touched ground. Mane and tail flying. Sweat glistening on his hide. Breath puffing hard through his nostrils.
Heart thundering in his chest. Louder and louder in a crescendo of drumbeats that became a deafening shout in his ears.
Of rage. Loss. Anguish. And loneliness.
