Hurricane

 

A full grown, powerful serian... He should be in control of things, should know what was going on. He glanced around and sighed, stopped his slow walking to lean against a lone palm tree.  A gust of wind tussled his mane and he turned his face into it, hearing and seeing and smelling fragments of things the wind had seen in its recent travels.

 

His tri-tufted tale twitched like a branch and leaves caught up in a gale.  A good storm was what he needed right about now.  To feel the elements swirling and whipping around him unchecked and raw.

 

One that lasted forever perhaps, not ebbing and leaving scant remains floating on the nearby sea in quiet shambles. Like so many pieces of his life all tattered and laid by the wayside.

 

The facts were there.  His angel of a mate.  Their triplets. Heck, one of them was here even, in this land somewhere.  He'd not met with his son, not like this, not yet. His cirlce. He wondered how everyone had fared... There'd been plenty enough familiar faces in the wilder lands frequented by Abandoneds.  He had to wonder if his circle would ever be complete again, if it would be unbroken.

 

The wind blew in even stronger and he caught a scent of storm. Depsite his malaise, his skin prickled and he felt a thread of excitement reach to his core. A storm was imminent, and he'd figure out the rest later.