He dreams of blue-green flashes. Of the curdled, dry-throated cackle of an old wingbag. He sees fur flying, bones collapsing into piles of once-was. Gone. He dreams of this again and again and again; and again, he hasn’t slept.
He stirs to the dawn chorus—bluebirds, wrens, robins—chirruping and trilling into the clean, thin air, still cool from the night. They swoop in wild aerials above, alighting from branch to branch as he watches them with unfocused, sore, red eyes.
The forest rolls with thin, filmy sheets of fog; glittering under the tight clutches of trees is an even thinner crust of overnight frost, crunching below his hooves.
Bleary-eyed and disquiet, he pushes off from the larch he has leaned is tired body against all night and sluggishly passes into the bloom of hazy light, in and out of the dappling sun, streaming through green-grey needles.
But still, it clings to him. The light. The cackle. The bones. And in his anchored, fitful mind, he hears neither of the rustles in the deep woods. Not yours; and not the one that shifts, stranger and less familiar—less equine—in the gloom.
The lands of Delumine seemed innumerable at first, from the eyes of one that did not know what they were looking at. With a few quick words though, Isra had made me understand that not all that I saw belonged in any which way to Delumine. The forests though, they did, and they were easily my favorite place to be. Having been warned fairly early that I might encounter unsuspecting... sights, I promptly cast it out of my mind and made it my haven. The trees always made me think of home, although it was missing the vast plains and rolling hills below the compound, it was close enough to make my heart somewhat happy.
Today there was a stranger and I was briefly reminded of that warning. But this stranger did not seem particularly amorous. No. In fact he seemed to totter some on his legs as he moved away from a tree, eyes a bright, saturated red that made me think they might glow in the dark. No, he did not look inclined to love at all. He shifted over the frosted leaf-mold, glancing here and there without really looking, for his gaze was distant, somewhere else. In an act of spontaneity I stepped forward, immediately noting that we were very different in size. He could hurt me with fair ease if he chose. Yet it did not stop me from moving closer, making as much noise as possible so that he would not spook. Mother always said, a spooked horse is a dangerous horse. "Hail stranger, are you well?" I asked, soft, quiet, curious.
It strikes him as a strange question; from such a strange little voice.
So strange that for a blurry moment, he stills, swaying a little on his exhausted hooves, red eyes blinking in her general direction with wide, curious detachment. “Hm?” he hums, giving his slender head a firm shake. “Oh.”
—am I well?
His overlong ears flick as he chews thoughtfully on the inside of his cheek, it occurs to him that he must very well be, otherwise, he’d know right away, wouldn’t he? “Well, I suppose so—” his grey lips come to a wondering, straight line as he examines her small form. “Say, aren’t you a bit—”
The woods behind her rustles again, and he tenses like a snake in coil. He takes a step towards her, something strangely primal overcoming him, thrusting him between, squinting into the shrouded morn. “Hello?” he calls, his dull voice sharp in the oh-so silent woods.
I was a lot of things, a mind reader not being one of them. He considered me in the strangest way, ears that seemed far too long for his head twisting here and there. I wondered, could he hear better than I? Before I could ask though, completely ignoring his previous sentiments, he tensed. I could see the way his muscles tightened beneath his skin, as if it were just a blanket draped over bones. His eyes went from far away to sharp and watchful. But why? Why did he suddenly seem so angry? It was disarming and I took a step back, ears slowly coming to rest against my poll as I thought, perhaps approaching a stranger might not have been the best of ideas. Perhaps Isra was right...
And then he was moving, shifting stiffly to stand behind me and I followed him with wide, nervous eyes. What was he doing? My mind seemed to be moving a million miles a minute, conjuring up all manner of horrifying scenarios. The kind you read about in books and trashy novellas. Yet it was not me that his attention was focused upon, no, it was somewhere in the woods, between the trees. On a whim I too turned to face the same direction, listening, waiting. I could hear nothing out of the ordinary. "Uhm, sir... are you okay?" I said, giving him my sights. He did look dreadfully tired, mayhap he was hearing things? Seeing things? Surely Isra would take him in, give him a warm place to sleep, a hot meal... and then I heard it. Just barely, but enough that my stomach dropped to my knees. How could I have missed that? Was I truly so intent on ignorance that I would put myself in danger? With wide eyes I stepped backward, one, two, three, ready to flee on a moments notice.
How peculiar. That he should feel the sudden rush—animal whim—to protect her. She is not his bairn; so far as he knows, he has none at all. She means nothing to him, but a formless thing that had come from dim sunlight and misty air and spoke softly to him. Drew him back to the waking world.
And yet. Well, she is a bit helpless, isn’t she? And he, of course, just ever so slightly less so, though he prepares to teach her the value of running and hiding, should the need arise. The blood flows to his muscles, thrumming in his ears, making him alive. “Shhh…” he hisses, but it is too late, for her sweet, youthful voice has attracted a…
—he stills, staring at at the hare with half-lidded, soft familiarity. The rabbit’s skull at his neck shifts as his body releases tension and he takes a step back. “Rusati,”, he whispers, and then his red eyes fix on her, stern and weary. “Could have been worse, kid. You need to work on your hearing,” the hare hops languidly towards them, standing on its hind and sniffs the air.
The atmosphere held its breath, a pregnant pause that seemed to have wound a string so tightly around my lungs that I could hardly breathe. Then all at once it came to fruition in the form of a tawny brown rabbit, stepping harmlessly from beneath the elderberry bushes. I stared wordlessly at the creature, watched as it pulled its ears back and forth, testing the intent of the two equines with watchful brown eyes. The grey stallion had relaxed, mumbling speech I could not understand before turning to face me. If there was one thing we could agree on, it was that I had made a dire mistake in recent days. An infinite number of scenarios rushed through my minds eyes as I only somewhat listened to what he had to say. This could have been so much more problematic than it had been. What would Isra say? Suddenly everything stopped. Did Isra even know where I was? This thought caused my heart to throb in a manner that simply would not do. With furrowed brows I step back, not intending to be rude, though it could surely be perceived that way. It was a reminder I did not ask for, did not really want, not right now, not here. Not in my place of peace and solitude.
There had been a silent understanding between Amalie and I back home. I could do as I pleased so long as I stayed within a certain distance of the compound. Searching the present-day I realized with an ache that Isra, despite her near constant attempts at attending my needs, had never bothered to keep track of where I was. She always seemed to know. My young mind was unsure of why this was important, or why it even mattered, but in that moment it did. I shifted pale, moon-white eyes up to look at the stallion, having long forgotten (had I ever paid attention?) his statements. "Does your-" my tongue catches as I search for the word, any word "caretaker know where you are?" .
