"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
I’ve been avoiding the forest, but it was still inevitable that I would turn up here sooner or later. I wait until it’s daylight to explore beneath the canopy, however, because I know that I won’t have as strong of a chance to run into my family while the sun is shining. The smell of the acidic blood my mother and sister share still scorches my senses here and there, but it’s fading with the seasons.
They’re here, somewhere, I’m sure of it – but I don’t think this particular corner has seen them in at least a few cycles of the moon which makes me braver.
Not brave enough to go so far into the forest that I cannot see the edge – but, you know, brave-ish.
It’s late morning as I wander through the trees, not really with any purpose (though my secret purpose is that I do want a glimpse of my mothers, I want that hint of a hope that things will be better if I go to them).
All purpose is abandoned when I come across a tree that has been bent. Bent! It starts growing like any other tree but the trunk curves into almost a perfect arch. I tilt my head as far as I can, trying to figure out just what the heck happened here. It’s hard to figure out because I don’t know anything about trees… but still, a boy can wonder.
It has become something of a habit, visiting the seemingly endless depths of the forest. She’s not entirely certain why, but at the very least, the whispering leaves always contain a wealth of information for her. Many pass these trunks and the ever present eyes that lurk within their branches. A squirrel, a bird, a chipmunk. It matters not. They are all eyes to her.
She hadn’t had a particular direction in mind (unusual for the roan queen, who so rarely does anything without purpose), but soon enough she finds the trees thinning and the rays of bright sunlight trickling through with heedless determination. Perhaps it is the weight she now carries so firmly on her shoulders, or perhaps it is merely that she has grown maudlin in her old age. Whatever is, she has given up trying to name whatever it is that had drawn her here.
As it happens, however (as it usually happens), the trip is not a fruitless one. Nor, as it turns out, is it one without it’s intrigues. Normally she does not approach those whose path she crosses without reason, but she finds something rather curious in the boy staring with an almost earnest confusion at a tree growing in an oddly sharp angle. The tree might fascinate him, but she pays it no mind.
No, there is something about him that intrigues her. Perhaps it is his faint reminiscence to her brother, a dark and inexplicably eerie presence masking a surprisingly gentle heart. Or perhaps it is merely that he is unique, something she hasn’t yet had the opportunity to encounter in person. Either way, she slips around the tree, pausing as she rounds the trunk to settle vibrant, piercingly blue eyes on the antlered stranger.
“Do you wish to know what happened to it?” she asks after a moment of silence, offering the question in favor of any bland pleasantries. She’d been bored enough by such things lately anyway.
My mind is usually a one-track sort of place – I don’t often focus on more than a single thing at a time. Wouldn’t that be rude? I mean, when I give someone or something my attention I want them to have ALL of it! Because whatever it is is exciting!!
Which is a long way of saying I absolutely did not notice the mare coming over towards me until she was right in front of me and spoke. I gave a little jump – and you could almost hear my bones rattling against each other as I did – but quickly the startled expression shifts into one of delight. Not that it’s easy to tell – what with my the sclera of my eyes being just as black as the pupil and iris so they all sort of get lost.
But if my smile is not easy to see on my all-black features, it’s certainly very obvious by my tone. “I do!” I answer immediately, excitement bubbling in those two words at the idea of the little mystery of mine being solved by this stranger.
I wait patiently, but with a thriving curiosity, to see if she’ll be able to tell me the secret of this curvy tree.
It’s amusing, in a way, to see the visible excitement radiating from a creature that was designed to intimidate. A boyish charm that nearly overcomes the uncommonly haunting appearance. She had long ago ceased to be surprised at such things, but the duality of it still strikes her, touching that increasingly rare chord of humor buried deep within.
Of course, it’s not likely something he would be privy to. Certainly she does not express it in any overtly visible way. Nevertheless, she finds herself somewhat charmed. An exceedingly rare occurrence, is it were.
She peers at him for another moment before her gaze slips to the unnaturally curved tree. “Trees are survivors, you know,” she begins, her tone thoughtful as she studies the sharp angle. “They’ll find a way to survive, even in the most trying circumstances.” Her gaze turns back to the young stallion. There is a lesson in her words, though it isn’t one she had necessarily meant to impart intentionally.
No doubt the boy would expect a story. But for her, it’s simple enough to compile the evidence of it’s growth. To pare it down into a swift replication. And then, to place it directly into the boy’s visual cortex. He’d be shocked, no doubt. But also quite intrigued, she suspects, if she is reading the situation right.
And she rarely reads such things wrong.
and they'll cut you like a weapon
Heartfire
Oh cheez louise I have zero room to judge lmfao
Also, if this is not ok, please let me know and I will change it <3
The words that the mare speaks to me are like, super wise sounding. I’m a little too dumb to really think about them a whole lot – but it sure makes me appreciate trees a little more. Because you know what, they are pretty resilient! They just stand there, doing their thing, year after year.
Now, I’ve had magic used on me before, but it never felt like this. Although this is certainly an invasion – kind of? I don’t know, I did say I wanted to know what happened so it’s all confusing – it is nothing compared to what my sire-mother was capable of.
It does take me a minute to realize that the tree isn’t just, you know, showing me itself – that it’s the mare standing with me.
Still, as soon as the visual enters my mind I can’t help but release a quick yelp of a "WOAH"
"Alright that was pretty cool." I mean both the little trick with my eyes and the info about the trees – of course. And by pretty cool I mean my head is still spinning a little bit and I’m geeking out but trying my best to just play it cool.
My attention shifts more fully to the mare, because I’m starting to suspect that she’s even more interesting than this tough ol’ tree. "I’m Velkan! What's your name, tree-expert?"
It’s much too easy for her to become lost in the tangle of intrigue and dangerous politics in the years long game she had been playing. Such a timely reminder that this is not all life can be brings her back into sharp focus, allowing a long forgotten peace to settle through her. This young stallion, in all his dichotomous naivete, likely has no clue what insight he had so easily provided her without even trying.
Of course, it’s far too late for her to change, but it’s nice to be reminded. To remember that her skills are not just tools. That they could be so much more.
She shifts as Velkan exclaims, his features full of a wonder and awe she has not seen in a very long time. She nearly smiles at that, briefly forgetting herself in the moment. It’s not often she can be something that pure to someone. Truthfully not something she usually cares to do. And perhaps that is, ultimately, what had drawn her to approach. Some suppressed understanding that drove her to seek out the things she too easily forgets.
“Heartfire,” she responds simply to Velkan’s enthusiastic question, a gleam of humor in her normal icy gaze. “Though I’m not certain I’d color myself a tree expert.” Her lips twitch faintly then, before she adds, “More like an everything-expert.”
