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…………On the 60th anniversary of D-Day, we take this time to recount a folktale from French villagers who were present during the invasion. Whilst accounts vary, one consistent element remains. A man in golden armor on a white winged horse soaring in the skies. There have been scatter-shot anecdotes of locals supposedly seeing the same horse for the last half century, although historians have chalked this up to seaside illusions or hallucinations from dehydrated sailors …….” 

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[center][h3][color=yellow]Shining Knight[/color][/h3][/center]

[center][color=yellow]Fellowship 2.2.2[/color][/center]

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Justin curled his fists, legs bowed in a half-squat, as he watched Victory paw the straw with his hoof. The horse’s sloping shoulders were raised. Justin knew that behind that matted fur was over 500 pounds of pure muscle that could snap his spine in half. Justin inwardly marveled that Victory was still in peak condition after all this time. He looked the same as he had fifty years ago and bore no signs of the damage they both took during the landing on Verdun. 

Bitterness then rose up in his cheek as he shook his head, signing to himself. Why did he expect any different? Victory had been with him for over nine centuries. He was one of the original horses that drank from the shores of the sacred lake. The same curse of immortality that had anchored him to the Earth for millennia had stricken him as well. How foolish had he to be to believe that Victory would die like any other horse? 

No, he’d left him to rot at Verdun. 

But, was fighting truly the way to settle their differences? 

Justin opened and closed his palms, trying to relieve the tension in his fingers, before letting his arms fall back to his sides. Victory tilted his head to the side, confused at what his former master was planning. 

“ This is stupid,” Justin crossed his arms, ignoring the horse’s braying as he walked closer. “ Do you really think that I’d let you goad me into a fight that easily? This isn’t going to help the both of us, Victory.” 

Victory chuffs and leans his sinous head forward. Justin doesn’t blink at the sensation of the horse's breath, warm and humid, on his cheek. He can hear the grinding of jaws rubbing together like saw teeth. 

They both stand there for a while in silence. Justin with his arms crossed and Victory’s head leaning over his shoulder, trying to see any fear within him.

Justin gives him none. 

So, Victory gives him a hoof.

Stars dance in over his head as Justin bowls over. It takes a moment for him to realize that he isn’t dead and a few more seconds to figure out how his limbs work again. The pain then hits, throbbing and dull. His fingers scratch his dome, checking to see whether anything is cracked. It’s hard for him to read Victory’s expression but Justin can’t tell whether the horse is grinning at his misfortune. 

“ Got that out of your system?” Justin asks wearedly. 

“ Right. Let’s figure out where you’ve been all these years.” 

Victory replies in a chortling neigh.