Anyone;

[Dillan]

Of all places to remain unchanged, it is the field.

The sight dawns a splendid bout of laughter that brightens the light of Dillan’s face the moment she steps forward and away from the treeline. It has been decades – centuries? – since she last stepped on this soil, and while much has changed, there remains a glimmer of the past in these rolling hills. A soft breeze whispers through the new, spring grass and presses a kiss to her cheek as she stands immobile among the knots of conversation. In her chest, the rhythm of her heart increases. Once, she had a home and would come here to invite new life into the Dazzling Waterfalls, then one day the Forbidden Waterfall. Now, she arrives confused and lost among the masses. Their faces melt together, a cacophony and likeness that forces a hitch in her step.

Truthfully, she thought herself with purpose by first returning to the world of the living. Obviously, there’s a reason for her to be extracted from the eternal and placed among this changed place. Alas, Larva is nowhere to be seen, nor their children. Her wanderings have been aimless, her conversations minimal.

Perhaps, after all, there is no real reason that she is here, except to live again. To thrive. To have a second chance.

Taking a breath, Dillan resigns to the latter point of view. Her nature is to seek purpose, to aim for a goal, but for the first time, her mind unravels. It loosens its grip on all she has ever known and succumbs to simply being in the moment, to simply being here instead of looking ahead to the next step. With a sigh, Dillan closes her eyes and pierces through the wall of reluctance.

When she opens them, she is moving forward, deeper into the one place she knows but with a mind more open than it has ever been. The manner of the field hasn’t changed, not the purpose or the hills. Forcing a determined grin, Dillan halts amid the murmurs and absorbs every sight and smell she can in her purgatory.

[Ruthless]

if you do not have shadows,
 you are not in the light

She is a peculiar one, our Ruth, as she paws at the ground persistently in search of snow like her mother used to teach her. For no reason, really. It’s not as if she is starving anymore or trying to survive in the shadows of unclaimed land, in fact she has had quite the upgrade since a year ago.

But, sometimes, she misses the little things. The time spent sifting through square after square of the field in an effort to dig up some leftover green snacks. The hours before where they would hide in numerous areas of the treeline. The small moments of hope where Ruthless could play and frolic, and appreciate the break from paranoia and fear.

The small luxuries than are hardly considered good anymore, not in comparison to what she has now. The endless amount of shelter, the plethora of food, the company of friends; how odd that she had ended up where she did, even with what she went through.

Her stomach turns, what I went through? Our golden child shakes her head shamefully, as if she went through anything worse than her mother did.

How could she blame Brine, her shadowy mother and caregiver. Brine had done the best she could, right?

Her attention turns, watching as a dappled grey mare places herself almost centre of the field before taking a moment. Ruthless admires her from a distance at first, watching a stiff grin play across her face. Older, wiser, and even more important, a girl.

Boys were scary to our young filly, too scary. And for some reason she finds herself slowly gravitating towards the mare, as if she has a magnet of inspiration and Ruth cannot help but float to her company.

“Hello,” the palomino teen whispers almost hesitantly, as if she fears to break the woman’s concentration. And then she remembers be confident, so she follows with more oomph in her voice, “I am Ruthless! But please, call me Ruth. Oh! I live in Taiga, incase that matters any.”

In complete honesty, Ruthless hadn’t joined the mares company solely for recruitment. There is something about this mare, something that reminds her of mother Brine. Something that reminds her of a shadowy glow, like there is more to her story than just arriving in the field looking for guidance.

And, who would want the guidance of a two year old anyways?

Ruthless

[Dillan]

How funny that she draws the attention of the young generation. If only the teenager knew how old Dillan is. Would she stumble back in surprise, grimace in misunderstanding?

Maybe, with her return, she has regained the youth that she once had.

When she lied down on the beach, her body brittle and her mind exhausted, she remembered looking over her shoulder at herself. Where there had once been black points and contrasting dapples, there was white. Her coat bleached like bones in the sun, and her lungs weakly sighed. That day, Dillan died alone.

Would it deter the girl knowing that this dappled stranger has experienced the eternal? That she has felt her own heart cease and her soul reach for something beyond this world?

The knowledge burns the edges of Dillan’s thoughts, but she suppresses them because she doesn’t want to be the one clouding Ruth’s ignorant bliss. Ruth. Yes, that is her name, offered so happily the moment they’re near enough. Swallowing the lump of memories, she responds sweetly in a manner so natural to her after being a mother time and time again. ”I’m Dillan,” her voice is strange to hear again, having lost its ethereal touch since returning. It remains warm, like honey dripping from her lips as she punctuates her own introduction with a smile. For a heartbeat, it’s there, radiating welcome, but then confusion deepens the lines of her face and furrows her brows. ”Taiga. What is Taiga?” What happened to the Dazzling Waterfall and the Forbidden Dale? What of the Chamber and Valley? Uncertainty sinks into her like a polished knife, unsettling her as her nutmeg eyes lift to stare again at the Field as though expecting answers to rise from the soil.

A threat of fear trickles into her veins, but Dillan halts herself and grips the spiraling thoughts. She was a soldier once, but also a doting mother and lover. Drawing in a breath – even that returned sensation still tingles through her lungs – she looks back at Ruthless. ”I’m not familiar with the lands anymore. Care to share them with me?” But then from a memory – a recent one – she recalls Tephra. It doesn’t solve what it is, or what it means, but the word hangs suspended in her mind as she interestedly looks at her companion. ”It’s a pleasure to meet you, Ruth,” because it is the only thing Dillan is certain of right now. 

@[Ruthless]