Unfinished
Night had fallen across Equestria. Luna’s silver moon shone down from its throne in the black sapphire sky as a myriad of stars added their glimmering brilliance to the tapestry. Below the vast orchards of Sweet Apple Acres spread out across the hills outside Ponyville, silently guarding their secrets of generations of living and past as a lone scarlet stallion passed among them. His head hung low, weighted with a heart heavy with the memories of grief and loss, as he walked from the spot on which his life had been forever changed. A spot where he had received a mark on his body he did not understand and scar on his soul that he could never remove.
As the last sounds of hoof steps vanished among the trees the silver shine of Luna’s beloved moon caught hold of something emerging from between the trees of the Everfree Forest atop the ridge above the old walnut grove at the edge of the apple orchard. Patches of purest white gleamed where the moonshine cut through the foliage into the darkness.
Striding forth from the shadows into the clear area atop the rise like a conquering lord, an earth pony stallion emerged from the Everfree. The slight breeze in the air stroked and played with the long white hairs of his uncropped mane and tail. From his ivory hooves and snowy fetlocks to the keen ears that adroitly scanned the night air for sound of movement, the stallion was spectacular, and white as fresh fallen snow. Everything was white but his eyes, his eyes were pink, unnaturally so, and his pupils hot red. For there was no color to them really, no color anywhere upon him at all. Like a living snow sculpture he pulled the cool night air in through flared nostrils. He was an albino; it was his curse at birth, a fluke of the blood.
It was blood that had cursed him and it was blood brought him back here again. Free of the fetters that had once kept him from his legacy. The mules that had raised him, the Diamond Dogs that had bought him, had worked him so hard in the pits and mines. They were all buried in his past now, as well as in the ground. It had been strength and skill by which he escaped, and folly that he had been recaptured just at the moment of his greatest victory.
The albino stallion pulled in another lung full of air and something prickled on the inside of his nose. It was the scent of a mare, a fine young mare, ready, and in season to bear the heirs to his lineage. He rose up on his hind legs pawing the air and whickering with delight. He was free, free to claim what was his. It had been by blood and by conquest this all was his.
And this time he would keep it.