The filly entered the herd’s land – her home – at the time the sun was just barely rising over the horizon. It was clear that her silver coat was tattered, covered in places with blood and sweat. Her fur was matted, mane and tail tangled beyond belief, and her button eyes…oh, they reflected the very horror that she had seen. She fell several times in her utter exhaustion, before she collapsed and would not rise. Her breathing was labored, and she gave in to the darkness that wanted so badly to claim her. The filly slept, but fitfully, for several hours; comatose; before she was able to open her eyes again. The nightmares had made certain that she would not be able to recover as she hoped she would; nightmares of sounds – snapping bones and tumbling rocks; a frightened voice warning her to stay back; and then the image of his body falling. Falling into the great unknown. She had not seen his body land, but surely, there was no way he was still alive. They were on the top of the mountain! Softly, the filly began to sob as the sun rose ever-higher, exposing all of her cuts and bruises, the swelling in all four of her legs, and the defeat that so clearly rested upon her shoulders. Why would the gods torture her like this? All she had wanted to do was meet the one she was told she should worship – and he failed to show himself to her. He failed to save her, or her friend. The filly could feel the cold bitterness rising up in her throat, burning as the sobs that wracked her frame. All she could do was lie there, waiting for whatever should come next in this nightmarish hell she called life. ”Speech”
Pan was drunk from the joy of the Harvest Festival, having eaten far too many pastries and hiccupping through the cider that still tasted of cinnamon on his lips. He found himself napping in the afternoon sun, cold, but happily gluttonous as he slept away the afternoon. At peace, the boy was more relaxed than he’d been in some time, enjoying the last strains of music as the festival began to break down and be put away. He’d miss it, but honestly, his body couldn’t really take more sugar. Yawning and stretching, he rolled to his side and watched from a distance – not that he wouldn’t help break it down, but more than he was relishing in the moment as he waited for direction.
The peace was broken as Coraline came running in, tears streaming down her face and the howl of grief upon her lips.
In a flash, the green boy is to his feet and rushing to her, looking for wounds and wondering if she was hurt. His lips are gentle against her silver coat, roaming over her and feeling her cold and clammy beneath his touch. She was in shock, this much he understood… but she seemed to be in good health. His panicked search for wounding turned to compassion as his lips gentled to a caress, and he nibbled affectionately on her mane.
Only when she seemed to still to a quiet sort of horror, does he question her, his voice childlike and quiet. ”Coraline, is everything alright?” He knew it wasn’t, but needed to elicit the information from his friend, to know more how to handle the situation.
The only constant she had in her life was Pan. The colt was there, no matter what the issue, no matter what the time. She had come to truly appreciate that – the fact that he was always there. It worried her, too, though. All of the ones she cared about died – or forgot about her. She calmed when he approached her, but was still far from coherent. She could feel him touching her, trying to find out her injuries – and in truth, hers were minor. A couple cuts on her legs from falling, and the joints were swollen, but nothing that wouldn’t heal on their own in time. Her newest wound was again mental. She could see him falling; disappearing from sight. He told her to stay back; and then he was gone, swallowed up by this wretched place. The place that was supposed to be her home. Sacred. Safe.
It took quite some time for her to have a rational thought. She had heard Pan ask if she was ok, but was unable to respond. He would understand that she was not alright; that something was seriously amiss. But once she was capable, she spoke to him. ”Only. He’s dead.” Her tone was flat, emotionless. She felt empty, drained of everything that made her what she was. What an awful feeling, yet she couldn’t shake it. In time, she would be fine; but not tonight. ”It’s my fault. He fell off the mountain.” She assumed Pan would try to make her feel better and tell her how it wasn’t her fault, but it was. ”He fell. His foot was trapped under some rocks. I moved the rocks, and he fell.” She looked up at her friend, a haunted expression on her face. She couldn’t stop seeing him; the last rock moving, exposing his broken leg, and then he was moving away from her, sliding, falling.
”It’s my fault.”
She stopped for a minute, her body now shaking. She wasn’t cold, but the shock had sunk in deeper now. ”You should go. You’ll end up dead, too.” She tried to walk away from him, scared that some harm would befall the only friend she had left in this world.
