The legend told of a band of wild horses that made the rocky beaches their home. They had been
seen there for hundreds of years. The horses were stallions, and they had never been touched or tamed. They were as free as the wind and did as they pleased. A person wouldn't consider the thought of interacting with one, let alone riding one! However, as the story is told, Cairo and Archangel's distant uncle did just that. He walked the beach frequently to clear his mind and gain inspiration for his writing. His name had been Vetiver, and he lived alone in a shack
near the sea as a recluse. He was short with a slight build and wore thick horn-rimmed spectacles. The hair on his head was sparse and spare, and he moved like a tortoise but spoke loudly with great zeal. Vetiver spent much of his time
writing but also enjoyed the outdoors. He was extremely curious about the world around him, and took notes and made sketches in a field journal that he carried with him on his hikes. On a particularly calm and cool day, Vetiver
set off on his usual morning jaunt. He was in a fine mood and planned on observing the wild horses at the beach once more. He had carried along his watercolor set so that he might begin some paintings in his journal. Vetiver had been
watching the horses closely for about six months now. He paid attention to their specific behavior and mannerisms. Each stallion had a unique personality and mindset. Vetiver had named them so that he might be able to distinguish
one from the others. There were five stallions that roamed the shores. An anxious, flighty black horse he called Pyro, a quite large and brawny white stallion named Ether, a smallish and clever mahogany horse called Rift, Mist, the
grey and majestic, sensitive soul, and last was a very timid but sweet young stallion he met recently and named Little Wing. He had dapples and markings on his shoulders and flanks that looked a lot like angel wings. The horses' names
were significant and had a certain magic to them. Vetiver knew that for sure. Vetiver had been studying alchemy for years at that point, and he felt that the stallions had a connection to the natural energy of the world around them. To the elements of alchemy. Pyro was fire, Ether represented the element of ether, Rift was connected to earth, Mist was water, and Little Wing had a bond with air.
Vetiver reached the beach early enough to arrive before the horses. He found a large piece of driftwood to sit and rest on. The ideal spot for painting and watching. This was the best part of his day. As predicted, the stallions
galloped onto the beach just after sunrise. They would usually run about for a bit, and then stand in a small cluster, hoofing the sand and snorting. Little Wing liked to hang away from the group sometimes so that he might wander
and poke around. He was such a curious boy! Vetiver watched as Little Wing stepped off from the herd and began to walk slowly and cautiously across the sand towards him. He sucked in a breath and held it while he caught the
beautiful horse eye him with a curious intention. Vetiver sat very still as Little Wing finally reached his feet. "Good Morning." Vetiver spoke in a soothing tone so that he wouldn't startle the young stallion. Little Wing widened his
soft brown eyes a bit but stood his ground. Vetiver knew that he must be careful not to muss up this wonderful opportunity to meet a member of the majestic herd. Little Wing let out a kind of snort and then sniffed Vetiver's left hand with his snout. Vetiver took this as an invitation to pat Little Wing gently on the bridge of his muzzle. And Little Wing seemed to appreciate the kind gesture. He looked around and then did something unexpected. Little Wing tucked his head down and his body went stiff. Suddenly, he twisted around and took off down the beach like a flash of light. A silver streak. His mane flew behind him like a flag as he raced down the sand with lightning speed. After a bit of time passed, Little Wing slowed down to a canter. Vetiver tilted his head inquisitively. The other horses joined Little Wing for the morning jog. They ran together in a group, as they did at sunrise each morning when they arrived at the beach. Vetiver noticed something different about the horses and their appearance. He continued to sketch and take notes in his journal while marveling at the magical horses. Each horse seemed to glow incandescently. Little Wing shined like a star with his striking silvery mane. Pyro's eyes were ablaze and his black coat looked dark and almost sooty. As if, when you touched it, you might feel an ashy residue. Ether was so pale, so white, that he all but disappeared into the morning fog. His breath puffed out into small, round clouds in front of him. Rift was so sleek and toned with a rich, earthen hue to his skin and hair. His mane rippled in coarse waves as the wind blew through it and tossled it around. Mist threw his head back and whinnied. He looked even more graceful and elegant than before. His grey fur was iridescent and smooth. His mane looked pastel in the morning sun, with bits of color woven here and there. The seemingly enchanted band of horses came to a halt. They stood in their group, pawing the sand and watching the waves crest. Vetiver scratched his chin thoughtfully. As he looked upon these fantastical creatures, something came to mind. He realized after a moment that they reminded him of his studies in alchemy. Each horse appeared to resemble an element. His fascination quickly changed to amazement as he discovered the answer to his family's unsolved mystery.
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