Marcus
someone wise told me once
to keep my chin held high
to keep my chin held high
Marcus kept his mount precisely where he needed to be. He was close enough to hold the line, far enough not to crowd the glowing shapes drifting behind Amhran. The cold gnawed at his fingers, but it was the tightening in his chest that bothered him more. The herd felt taut as a bowstring, every flick of an ear or stumble in the snow sending a jolt of nerves through him. If they spooked they’d scatter into the white and all of this would fall apart. He felt a knot tighten in his belly.
Quietly at first, he let a song rise. It was nothing truly beautiful, having a lack of natural talent and no formal training, but it was something. Something to ease him, and hopefully the herd. He kept moving on his formation with the other Halovians as he sang, eyes moving from the flighty herd, to Deimos, back to his father, then forward to the Raeling.
Marcus kept singing.
Marcus holds formation and sings!
Quietly at first, he let a song rise. It was nothing truly beautiful, having a lack of natural talent and no formal training, but it was something. Something to ease him, and hopefully the herd. He kept moving on his formation with the other Halovians as he sang, eyes moving from the flighty herd, to Deimos, back to his father, then forward to the Raeling.
Marcus kept singing.
Marcus holds formation and sings!
and be brave
