The beast could not say for how long he had been running, but night was finally beginning to fall. White clouds of steam billowed from his nostrils, rimmed with red due to his exertion. The damnable mixbreed's words still chased him, tearing at his mind and heart with toxic talons. Worse than Skinwalkers. Creatures with no morals, living only to sew the seeds of chaos. Chaos that he willingly chose to spread by killing those of Kalona's blood. Were they not impure? Twisted aberrations of His dark magic? But how long have you searched for a mate to sire children? Whispered a traitorous thought in the back of his mind, refusing to relent and give him peace. How long have you failed? Is it worth letting the name of Kalona die for purity's sake? Nemesis' pinned his ears flat against his skull and ran harder. He would not consider this blasphemy! This went against the teachings of everything he thought he knew! He thundered across the lowlands of the mountains until his hoof hit a loose stone, stumbling badly and nearly plowing right into the earth itself. He caught himself at the last instant, but not without paying the price. His foreleg buckled, and Nemesis came to a jarring halt, forced to keep weight off of the appendage less it give out on him. He gasped for breath, the sound of his own blood roaring in his ears as he limped forward.
There were whispers among the lessers that Kalona dwelled in the same hells that the Skinwalkers themselves came from, until mighty Kalona allowed them to roam free. The very thought was enough to make him want to spit. That halfblooded mare undoubtedly thought he had crawled up from the depths of the underworld instead of from the basket of two of the most honorable Soquili he knew.
Had his father ever killed halfbreeds? Had his mother?
Nemesis deliberately put weight on his strained leg, using the pain to distract him from his own thoughts. Why? Why had he allowed such stupid words to rile him so? Why could he not stop thinking about them? His pace was slow and ungainly as he crept farther and farther from his family herd's territory, aware of how foolish he looked. Unable to fly, barely able to walk.... no, he certainly did not represent the proud race of Kalona. For the rest of the night, Nemesis forced himself down the mountain side to the grasslands, far beyond his family's reach.
His leg was hot and swollen, throbbing even when he stood still. Resting would have been the wise option, but his pride had spurred him onward. Would he remain stubborn and allow himself to become permanently lame? His muzzle curled back with distaste, knowing he would need to truly seek out healing. His leg, his wing... He had heard of the healing qualities of pureblooded unicorns. There was only one way to see if it was true.