The volcano, now dormant, remained a disconcerting shadow against the too-blue sky. An aching sky. A grasping sky. A sky, if one craned their head at, caught their eyes on, would swallow you. So Boudika did not look for the sky, as she broke through the brambles and the dense undergrowth of the forest. There were few game-paths or easy-to-follow trails. But Boudika knew, with a dogged determination, that this forest would not conquer her.
The beaches were smothered with too many people, as though the relic were waiting to be discovered in the bleached-white sand. As though it would be easy. This had begun to frustrate her more than she had words to express. Boudika felt tethered, utterly, to the sea—when she wandered too far from it she was brought back to the precipice of the land, staring, waiting for something impossible, imperceivable. Waiting for something hopeful, tumultuous. But the sea was choking. It was choking with equines too timid to pursue the deeper parts of the islands, equines frightened by bizarre birds and gleaming jungle-cats.
Then why, Boudika found herself asking, did she stay. At last, Boudika broke from the beach with a simmering anger. She took to the forest at a run, delving into the depths like a whetted knife. The branches, even now, lashed her face. Leaves and thorns tore at her flanks and she felt the hot swell of blood where they broke skin. Boudika returned the small pains sevenfold, tearing through the deeply tangled trees into a small clearing. For a moment, she could reassess her surroundings—and there, the volcano continued to loom, like a relic itself. Like a temple. The mares flanks heaved; her ribs swelled out and then retracted with each heavy, laboured breath. Her skin was flecked with foam, her eyes wide and white, nostrils flared.
From there, she took her journey more methodically. Boudika transitioned smoothly between a walk and a canter, closing ground quickly. The earth had begun to slope, and she took the incline in stride. By midday, Boudika had reached a half-way point on the volcano pleasantly disguised as a mere mountain. She rested on a ledge, overlooking the whole of the eastern side of the island.
Perhaps she was a fool for venturing so far inland, for abandoning the familiarity of the sea. It gleamed at her, a cruel abyss, and her eyes shied from the wicked brightness. Boudika took a moment to look, instead, at the deep forest. It was deceptively ebullient. The life in it overflowed, swollen with colourful fruits and berries, blossoming with spring flowers—
Boudika’s thought were cut off as a large, falcon-like bird dived toward her. It did not make a sound; instead, it ducked its wings and descended like a flash, talons bared. Boudika narrowly ducked the assault and stared incredulously as the bird repositioned and resumed the attack. Boudika snorted and backtracked, swiping her horns in the air to wave the avian off. Then it screeched at her, and hovered above for a moment, with a head far more reptilian than bird-like. Boudika bared her teeth, snapping them at the air with a resounding click, but the bird dived again toward her eyes—
And was joined from more from the canopy below. Boudika swivelled, tossed her head, but the ground beneath her gave way, and she suddenly found herself tumbling several feet down the slope. After multiple, terrifying seconds, Boudika slowed her fall by catching her front hooves on the nook of a fallen log. Breathing heavily, she pulled herself, shaking, to her feet. Her body was covered in cuts and scrapes, and Boudika was certainly bruised, but at least nothing felt broken. Boudika glared up toward the bare edge of mountain where she had stood—the birds were still circling, celebrating their victory.
Of course, this wouldn’t be easy either.
