a light came on when you sang that song and
i want you to sing it again
While I wait for the return of the featherless boy, I occupy myself in other ways.
One way is by watching the residents of this Northern land. They are different than the ones I remember; generations have passed. I still see some familiar traits in some of them – those spots, those bones – but not enough to draw my interest.
Another is by finding the best grazing on this northern outcropping, which is what I am doing on the morning that I hear raised voices. The wind is against me and I had not caught their scents. My ears – purple this morning – flick toward the disturbance; a mare’s voice snapping. The next voice is a low rumble, slow and calm. I had wished to know that voice once, and while I had not been able to imitate it well, I have no doubt the speaker is Brennen.
Hopeful that this might mean there have been developments in the featherless boy’s quest, I leave my rocky copse and join them.
Today I am a lavender mare, as nondescript in breed and height as most of Beqanna’s residents. The antlers I have taken to wearing are a metallic green, my sides are wingless, and my smile anticipatory as I join there.
There is a third horse I had not heard, and he seems to be the one that the mare is irritated by. He is covered in icy scales, and I narrowly avoid donning a matching set of my own. They look quite nice, glittering in the early morning sunlight. There is a child too, and at him I peer at him curiously. He is not my blood any more than the rest of them gathered are, so he is of little interest. The topic at hand though? That is much more interesting.
“They should be able to keep him in one shape soon,” I tell them. Mostly the mare, since she seems concerned, and the bay magician who she has made the request of. “I told the boy how, and his sister seeks Carnage to find the end of it – if there even is one.” I shrug casually, because it is unimportant to me if a curse that does not afflict me is ended. “Lepis came North years ago for help, and the boy came last summer. He was looking for you” - I say to the magician - “But you were unavailable.”
“You could stop him from coming here, but it’d probably be a waste of your magic.” I don’t like to waste my own ability, at least not on things that bore me, and am kind enough to save others the same trouble. “It’s be easier to just move the children, or get rid of them.” I shrug again before glancing down at the foal. He does not look particularly worth saving, but I suppose if his mother hadn’t ended the pregnancy with the right herbs she must have some sort of attachment to him.
@[Brennen]
D J I N N I
could i be the one you sing about in all your stories |
