Csilla
Isn't it lovely, all alone?
Heart made of glass, my mind of stone
T
he past burned. Holes in the skinny mare’s eyes grew wider, and – for a moment – I felt as if I was looking at my own reflection. Just as easily, I could be the half-starved creature that now stood before me. Surrounded by ice and snow and relentless cold, anything felt possible. Was the faded mare an illusion? A ghost sent to torment me and escort me back to my grave? I’d escaped death, but not because I had been afraid. Its cold breath haunted me still. The cruel snarling of a hunter as it crept nearer to its prey. Stranded and alone, I was helpless and lost. Exposed against a canvas of pure white. Perhaps I should have turned tail and fled. Submerged into a world that felt cruel, I was frozen. Lying next to a mare that had, at first, appeared incapable of warming herself, my mind slowed. So much had happened to see me delivered to such a state. Uncertainty clouded my judgment. I didn’t know this mare, and yet I chose to trust her. What other option did I have? For days I had been wandering alone, sticking to the paths cut by deer and other such wildlife. My rescuers – my kidnappers – had not wasted a moment to explain themselves before turning to mist and disappearing. I could have followed their tracks back to wherever they led. Why had I not?
Death stirred.
Suddenly uncomfortable I rose to my feet and took several steps away from the strange mare. I did not know her name, her place of origin, or the stories she carried with her. She could be everything to me or nothing, the choice was mine – I supposed. Ears flickering, I gazed out at the wide expanse of land that stretched out endlessly before me. I had no way of knowing which path would lead me to salvation. More than anything I required a warm bath and some food. Suddenly bashful, I cast my eyes of rich emerald back upon the kindly creature in the snow.
“I do not mean to trouble you,” I explained hurriedly. “As you say, I am not from Novus and I do not know this land.” Me neither, she had said.
Uneasy, I shifted my weight from one leg to the other. Once again, I saw myself reflected in her words. Sweet music slipped past the lips of the stranger. The song was unfamiliar and haunting, though I felt as if I almost knew its words. Again, I felt the tension retained in my body lessening. Could I trust this mare, or should I simply forget her and continue on my way? Inhaling, my mind was made far easier than I had expected.
“Csilla,” I supplied after a stretch of contemplative silence. “My name is Csilla.”
@Luvena
