"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
07-24-2016, 01:44 AM (This post was last modified: 07-27-2016, 01:14 AM by Ashr.)
it was all a dream...
There’s a collective murmur and then a gentle ‘hush.’ The rest of them slink off to wait elsewhere, especially the young ones; they’re all very eager to see their new sibling, cousin, nephew or niece but standing around and quietly keeping watch isn’t easy—not when you’re little and filled to the brim with questions; she lays her head against the cool ground, sweat frothing around her neck and sides. She cries out and her mother makes a move to stand beside her, but then seems to think better of it. This is something she needs to do herself, after all. She huffs heavily, pushing and pushing until out comes a pair of long spindly legs. It’s slightly easier after that.
Slightly.
Upon standing, the first thing she does is turn to check on her squirming child and clean her—her, she realizes with a sad smile, he had wanted a little girl—off. She’s black, just like him, but with her mommy’s particular brand of spots. He’d had a few, but not nearly as many. She noses her around, inspects every little inch and comes to the conclusion that her daughter is the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
“What did you name her?” Her mother asks, after tentatively moving forwards to help inspect her newest grandchild.
A cold wind blows from the north, bringing with it the smell of frost and still that isn’t what chills her down to the bone. She never thought about what she was going to name a girl, or even a boy if she’d had one. So much had happened in such a short span of time that her only concern had been staying alive. He had his ideas, though. One name in particular still stood out. She didn’t really like it at the time (if she were being honest, she had laughed when he suggested it; what a ridiculous name for a girl), but now... now is different. “Ashr,” she says finally and the filly looks up at her curiously.
“Her name is Ashr.”
“It’s pretty,” her mother grins knowingly. “Just like her.”
--
Ashr doesn’t remember what happens before the water; what led up to it, what chased them into it. But there had been screaming. And blood everywhere. Her mother had told her to run, just run—but the rest of it is blank. Her dark head shoots up above the waves and she coughs up fluid, she gasps for air but it hurts. Everything hurts. It feels like sharp ice is plucking at her sides, cold teeth biting through the skin. The water is so cold that it burns and the frozen shore seems so very far, but she continues to kick—to swim, until she’s finally able to pull herself up on the nearest patch of thick ice.
Her teeth start to chatter.
She trembles while she frantically searches the dark rolling waves for signs of something—anything. “Mama!” She cries out, though the cold air nearly strangles her. Ashr paces the patches of ice, hopping over the cracks; she thinks she sees something, a head maybe bobbing above the water—but it’s just another chunk of ice. “Gramma...” Ashr whispers hoarsely, her legs buckling. There are chips of ice clinging stubbornly to her wet baby fluff; the wind doesn’t help, it carries with it wisps of snow and frost and once she lies down, she stays down. She lets the snow fall, wants it to bury her and she almost falls asleep underneath it all—almost, but someone is coming. There’s a shadow looming over her now and she almost wants to lift her head to look, wants to see the smiling face of her mama but she knows better than that. Everyone is gone. It’s just her now.
They’re talking, whoever it is, though their voice is muffled and seems very far away.
She flicks her ears back and closes her tired eyes.
The Tundra is bleak and might as well be sunless in the winter. Fortunately, a thick winter coat is coming through at last. It is only the beginning of the winter, though, and Romek hates to imagine how cold it will be in the middle of it. It is the complete opposite to his birth home in pretty much every way, but that’s how he wants it. He hasn’t come here to be reminded at every turn (although it looks like that is what he is going to get anyway – although the scars on his shoulders had faded away at the Fairy’s words, the scars inside weren’t so quick to dissipate).
He is musing on this as he comes across a small, soaked bundle, folded up on the frozen floor, covered by a deepening layer of snow. At first he thinks that she is dead, but its ears twitch at his tentative ‘hello?’ A live child, being buried under the snow. The spotted stallion has always had a huge soft spot for children. He tries to paw away the snow from her body but his hooves are just too big and he is worried about squashing her. He noses it away instead, breathing hot breath on her body, trying to warm her up.
”How did you end up here, kid?” he says, although it’s more to keep her focused and awake than to engage her in conversation. ”It’s probably not the best place to come for a sunbathe, eh?” and in this way he continues to wipe the snow off her, nudging her firmly, trying to get her to stand up, or do anything. He folds his legs and lays down next to her, shuffling as close as possible, trying to warm her up with his own body heat. Other than that, there’s not much he can do.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
She had lingered on the very edge of the Tundra for days, ever since that night...Ever since she had told Nevi she loved him and lasted out so violently against her Dad. She had decided that they would still love her right? She just need to apologize. She just need to tell them that she hadn't meant it. That she had been scared and weak and not at all brave like she pretended to be, like Nevi needed her to be. That she was so grateful that they loved her and had taken her in.....
She sounded so weak. She hated it. She hated feeling like she was begging for scraps of their love. She hated that she had let herself get to this point of being so selfish, so....so empty of love, but full of anger and self-pity.
She hated herself for that.
They had stayed there that night, curled around each other. But dawn had come and Nevi had touched his lips to her forehead before going to find Offspring. She knew he would come back, would want to cuddle her and she just didn't deserve it. She didn't deserve his love not after her hateful speech. She didn't deserve her parent's love either...
And so, to the very northern reaches of the Tundra she had went. Thankfully her coat was full and thick for a winter in the Tundra. The farther north she went, the colder it got. It would be dark soon, and she should probably find some kind of shelter. Her heart lurches at the thought of Nevi returning to find the cave empty. To realize that she had left him.
She almost turns around then, stumbles over a snow pile and then staggers as she slips on some ice, slicing her leg open as she bumps into another chunk of ice. The motion had turned her just right where she could now see the stallion laying next to a tiny bundle on the ice. Her ears flickered, the wound on her leg forgotten as she carefully picked her way closer to them.
She realizes as she gets closer that the filly was not the stallion's, that she was too covered in snow and too alone. The stallion was doing his best to keep her warm, and so Lee comes up on the filly's other side. She doesn't know either of them, but she settles her warm, very furry body next to the filly's. She doesn't say anything for a moment...and then she decides to not say anything at all. She noses away the snow around the filly as he does and breathes her warm air onto the girl.
A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.
She slips through worlds (drifts, really, in and out of consciousness for a while), crawls through the blackness that separates galaxies from dreams and tries to find her way back home; but home is gone, home does not exist. Has never existed. It was a pretty lie her mother liked to tell. They had been on the run for months, though the beast was always making headway—always one step closer than he was the day before. He huffed and puffed smoke, that great lizard, who could spit fire hot enough to melt the flesh from their bones; “he’s just toying with us,” her grandmother said, and it wouldn’t be long before he came after the whole lot of them.
He took the children first.
All of them.
He would have taken her, too, if Uncle had let him. But Uncle was brave. And brave men, though their actions will be remembered forever, do not last long in a place like this.
Ashr leans against him and relishes in the warm, snuggles her face against his side and pretends that he’s one of the many she has lost to the frigid tide; if she’s really lost them, that is. Maybe they lost her. Maybe they’re out there, somewhere, calling out her name from the depths with fins and frills and fun fish-tails. Her mother liked to talk about water horses, too. And so waterhorses they became, untouchable by fire. Yes. That must be it. She blinks open her bright hazel eyes, then casts a sidelong glance at the stallion that has come to her aid; he’s one of the biggest, fuzziest horses she has ever seen in her life.
“You look like a bear, mister...” she remarks dryly, unable to raise her voice above a raspy whisper.
Another body, more warmth.
She nuzzles into this body, too.
It smells sweeter, feels softer; she lips at the gray patches of hair curiously.
How peculiar.
She’s never seen a gray horse before.
“I dunno how I got here,” she sniffles, partly because of the cold and partly because fresh tears are sneaking their way down her cheeks. “She told me to run.”
He is joined by a young mare, probably around Mari’s age, who takes the other side of the filly. She chooses not to speak and the spotted stallion is just fine with that. Together they nose the snow off the filly and warm her up, and the little girl’s first words to him do make him smile. She must’ve not seen many bears, but it was forgivable, she’s young.
”I’ll take that as a compliment.” he says.
She speaks of a ‘she’ who told her to run. It must’ve been her mother, telling her to flee some kind of horror, or tragedy – and his heart hurt for this little girl – to have experienced that, at such a young age… The world was not a fair place.
”Well, you don’t need to run anymore. You’re safe now.” It might’ve been a bit of a redundant statement seeing as neither of them were trying to eat her.
No one can make you feel inferior without your consent.
My heart breaks for this little girl, even as my lips smile at her words. Bear indeed. But his response keeps the smile there. I look him over, having not seen him before but that is forgivable since Dad had allowed mares in to the ranks. The activity in the Tundra had soared. I continue to stay quiet, blowing warm breaths onto the girl even as she lips at my grey fur and tells us a piece of her story.
My ears flicker as Romek reassures her and I smile slightly, nodding in agreement. I take his name as he says it, introduces himself to both of us really, and store it away. His face, the way he smells against the little girl, the sound of his voice, I take it all and store it away in the memory banks of my mind. Not that there is much there to sift through. My interactions in the Tundra have been primary amongst my family and before that it was nothing but the fairies in the Adoption Den.
"I'm Lieschel." I say with a pause, looking down at the girl and then up at Romek. "But you can call me Lee." Before my gaze drops back down to hers. "I like your spots, they are pretty." I say quietly, my lips brushing against them gently, glad she was able to speak and nestled into both of our warm bodies. It made my heart happy and sad at the same time. Glad she was alive and sad that she was here with us, not her family. She had obviously loved them very much.
Maybe I had loved my birth mom that much.
I lick the new tears off her cheeks. "Hush now. Don't cry little one." I do my best to comfort her.
A friend is someone who knows all about you and still loves you.
