I have never been afraid of the ocean, despite all the reasons I know I ought to be. So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone who knows me that I was one of the first horses to step onto and across the water.
I was one of the first to step into the water and one of the last to step onto the island. The problem is, I kept looking down as I crossed the ocean. All those mournful eyes, delicate ears, leaping legs tangled up in kelp... All those unicorns, they reminded me of my mother. They reminded me of my sister. All those lips parted and unreadable-- they could have been calling to me, in greeting or warning, or maybe that was just the look people had before they turned to stone. One last, long, exhale. Easy. And then, forever, nothing.
Too often I stopped and pressed the tip of my nose to the surface of the sea, my mane cascading around my face and into the water. I stared down at those dark-eyed faces, blinkless, waiting for them to stir. "What is it? What are you trying to say?" But they didn’t move, or if they did it was always the split second when my eyes were closed. We stood within reach, but we were worlds away.
I should have been used to that feeling, but it still drove me mad.
So that is how I got sidetracked; it was late in the day when I stepped foot on dry land once more. The tall, lush grass seemed to wave as though it was happy to see me again, and I must admit returning to the island felt a little like coming home. After all, I grew up here in ways I never did in Denocte. I turned to the closest statue- I could see others scattered in the green hills before me, their stillness emphasized by the movement of the grass- and something strange happened. Although, I knew to expect strange things on the island, and I did not stir except to smile softly to myself.
When I pressed my cheek to its shoulder, the statue began to weep. And then it started to sing.
WHO LOOKS FOR A LEAF IN THE FOREST?
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