Inkheart
JUST LIKE FIRE, BURNING OUT THE WAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
IF I CAN LIGHT THE WORLD UP FOR
JUST ONE DAY WATCH THIS MADNESS
COLORFUL CHARADE NO ONE CAN
BE JUST LIKE ME ANYWAY
The sun beats down, the rays heating her inked back and making her gold decorations glimmer. She's over-warm, as any dark creature in the summer sun is likely to be, but she's not yet sweating. She stands there in the midst of the wide-open canyon plateau taking a break from her journey toward more comfortable and cooler ground; her head is lowered and orbs half-lidded. Why does she need a break? Oh, just the fractured bone in her foreleg, and the large gash on her shoulder and barrel. She holds her right front leg up, not putting weight on it. The gash along her left side is scabbed over, healing slowly but surely, promising to leave an ugly scar.
It was all a blur - the fight with the Teryr. Even standing here she can smell its rotting carcass, exacerbated by the heat of the summer sun. Even from here, out of sight of the beast, she can hear the cries of the vultures as they descend on their mighty meal. A sigh slips past her chapping lips. Her leg must have broken when she was knocked out by the Teryr's first attack. The gash she remembers better, for she was conscious for that and had she not attempted to avoid its wings she might have been wounded even worse. Pain spreads through her body, a dull ache occasionally interrupted by sharp pangs emanating from her injuries.
A call disrupts the silence that has enveloped her, and her lobes swivel in the direction of the sound. She lifts her crown to see who has called her name. A chestnut mare with flaxen mane and tail approaches, trotting toward me. I recognize her from the meetings that we've had as a herd, and from the fight against the Teryr. "I am. You are... Bexley, correct?" The priestess doesn't know much about the other mare, except for her recurring presence. Her words are nonjudgmental, for in her current state and her lack of knowledge about Bexley, she cannot bring herself to her normal patronizing state.
