More bones were on show then ever before, the ribs of the once proud stallion shining clearing under the dull, ebony pelt. The brown eyes, dull and lifeless, held the prospect of one wish. To get his queen back. But to do so, he had to force the queen of all and that mere thought made his heart ache at what he was about the do. How could he do that to his king? To his half-brother? But his queen was more important, and truly it was only one foal. Maybe if he asked...she might be willing to help.
The sticks, once well muscled legs, moved up the sandy beach. Nose brushed the salted water, eyes peeling for life. And there it was, the proud aging king descending upon his sickly, heart broken brother.
Ashton's eyes filled with worry, knowing all was not well. He knew of Blizzard being taken, but not how sickly his brother had become. But he had guessed as much, the same thing had happened the last time she had been taken.
"Ashwin, what has become of you?" he said quietly, head shaking as his bodice came to a standstill beside him. "Nothing Ashton...I must speak with your queen," he replied, looking somewhat desperate, harks flickering nervously. Ashton hesitated, unsure what the sickly stag wanted with his queen but nodded. He was known to lend a hand to those in need.