"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
His muscles were sore and he ached from head to toe. He missed the humid jungle and the white beach and the sound of the ocean crashing -- he yearned for the scent of tropical fruit, the taste of water hidden between the folds of greenery. There was a sweetness to the jungle and now he finds nothing except bitterness.
The bay wanders along the less frequented roads. Lost but not scared, never scared. His mother taught him to be brave and despite not knowing where he is, or how he will eat, Isak cannot afraid to be afraid.
With cautious steps he slips beneath the branches of strange, needle-like trees. Here he can find some shelter from the biting wind. Isak leans against the rough bark and his mind drifts to the a far away place.
There are little places in the world like his homeland. Ashley can easily remember what it was like to walk in his beloved Dale and be able to smell the sweetness of the wildflowers and the dew that would congregate on the ground like a wet blanket. He used to roll in it as a child and tinge his body green—reminiscent to his mother’s—and now, as he was reminded that those days were long behind him, and those fertile grounds were no longer, that he had been given a new lease of life on the island known as Ischia. They had made for the new place without an image of what it would look like, and yet as he had made his home there, he found that each time he made the swim to the island, that he was becoming more at peace with what the Fairies had done to his blood. Stripping him of his abilities, and his dignity…
It was as Eight had said—twas magic that awoke him, and was magic that he was missing. Perhaps, one day he would fully understand the cause of what had happened to make him so bitter towards the world and this generation, but for now, he was able to work out his anger against the waves. And now, traversing the meadow (a place he found himself, even though he hated to be here), his appearance resembled that of a merman—shells tangled in his hair, seaweed plaiting his tail and sea creatures finding their nests inside his fur. It was almost as if he did not know that they were there… and yet, he seemed quieter. Calmer. More of himself from yesteryear.
Approaching a perfect stranger, looking somewhat strange himself, he thought to simply say hello. Perhaps his family’s madness was returning to him after all. “Hello. You look lost. Is there something I can do to help?”
Island life was the only thing he knew. Isak was born to the queen and her shadowy lover, who came like a thief in the night. He was the soft spot in what was once considered an unbreakable mare and that was why he left his home. He could not be what caused the downfall of the all mare herd, he refused to be the thing that brought his mother down -- oh, how fearsome and terrible she could be and yet, when Isak was born her hatred turned to something softer. Could he call it love? The bay isn’t quite sure, but he knows the mare felt close to him, perhaps because he reminded her of his father.
A horse Isak never met.
He only had stories and they were hardly enough. How his father was all dark and somber and would swim the channel to visit her in the good seasons. Isak heard that his father was a mercenary, hired to kill and claim all in his wake. It seemed like a good match in his mind.
He does not move when the other horse approaches him, instead he breathes in the scent of salt and sand and it calms him instantly. Isak flicks his dark eyes onto this newcomer and he can see the traces of the island mingled in his coat -- it makes his heart swell up and at first, he cannot speak. He simply stands there shivering for the longest time.
“I don’t know where I am,” Isak says.
He does not need help, he does not need anyone. His mother taught him that. So he does not say anything else for a moment, chewing lazily at his frozen lips. “You smell like the ocean, is there an ocean nearby?” He says and his voice sounds hopeful, almost eager.
Now that got Ashley’s attention. He perked up, his ears swinging around to the front of his head, and his nostrils flared. He did smell like the ocean. No wonder he was so calm. He turned finally to examine himself, and seeing that he was indeed covered in salt, sand, and sea-life, he tossed his head and gave a rather sardonic look at his companion. “Yes, there is infact. I have just made the swim from my home to the mainland to take the mountain pass. I have recently settled an Island off the coast here, named Ischia. It is beautiful there, and it lacks snow. I take it you are fond of the ocean? I can take you there and you can live with us if that is what your heart is looking for. You will not be lost any longer.”
He tries to smile, but then gets a chance to look up at the mountain. Once again, his path has been blocked. Perhaps this was the All-mother’s way of telling him that she was not yet ready to see him. Perhaps he just needed to bide his time a little longer, to wait a little more….
Isak wasn’t used to other males, did he even count himself as one? It was a hard question to answer, all his life had been spent with mares. He looks at this stallion who smells like familiarity and his nose wrinkles just a little -- there’s something else there. A scene he has rarely ever encountered, musky and lonesome and terribly dark.
The stallion continues on, his description of his homeland makes the bay lift his head. He wonders if he could make it, the cold had consumed nearly everything inside him.
“It sounds nice,” Isak says and his eyes flick cautiously out onto the meadow. The light breeze picks up layers of fresh snow and the flakes skip and dance and tumble until they lay down again.
“Do you know if there will be any mares? I grew up in an all mare herd, on an island.” He says calmly and for a moment his voice comes out small, childish. He can hear it ringing in the notes and the tone. Isak brushes his muzzle against the roughened tree bark, not daring to look at the other stallion.
Ashley looked at the young male, and smiled a knowing smile. This one was young, and It seemed that he needed to understand to be as Nature intended him to be. “There are certainly a few. As well as a few fillies. But there are also strong males there to protect the herd. This is not a herd belonging to amazons, but a traditional group in every sense. But we are a peaceful group. Safe, and isolated.”
He tilted his head, bidding Isak to look at him. “You will be safe there, I promise.” He flexed his muscles, working out the lactic acid that had gathered in his muscles from the long swim—it was cramping up in his back flank, and he took a large step back and groaned. “I am ready to head back with you, if you’re of a mind to follow me. My name is Ashley, by the way.”
