How did we do it?
How did we make it out of such an awful place alive?
I found myself wondering that more and more as time went on, we were so little when everything was happening. I would follow the tangles of memory whenever it got too quiet and I gave myself too much time to think, much like tonight. I thought about how Mama named me after the ashes of our home, she told me once, because maybe one day I would be able to rise above them. My name would be a constant reminder of the ruins we came from and I would always want to be better than that. Better than the savages that ripped our country apart. She died not long after that and I was alone for a while.
At least, until the enemy soldiers found me and took me to some canyon where the other orphans were kept. Colts were killed, no questions asked. Fillies were considered spoils of war and we would be given to someone, one day, when we were old enough so that our lines could be bred out and our mothers and fathers would be forgotten.
I was frightened and alone, and to make matters worse, my clan wasn't exactly well-liked even before the war, so the other girls took to avoiding me at first. All except Evarae.
She was a peculiarly happy face in a crowd of otherwise bleak children, her butterfly wings made her stand out even more so from the others; I couldn't understand her joy when being different made her valuable, when being so pretty made her a target. As young as I was, I understood that the leering of the soldiers who guarded us wasn't a good thing, but she did her best to stave off my fears and to cheer me up.
Despite my often morose demeanor, she would find me everyday and we would play and have fun despite our circumstances. Others joined in and soon we all became fast friends. Sometimes, even the young soldiers would join in on our antics but that was quickly put to an end one day when a higher-ranking member caught them and they were taken away to be punished. We never saw those young stallions ever again.
After that, things seemed to get worse.
I'm not sure if that caused it or the fact our enemies were winning the war, but soon, they started taking the older girls away. One by one. Until it was really just the group we often played with.
I remember Evarae waking us all up one morning, I remember the panic in her voice. I remember her leading us up to the top of the canyon and I remember running until it felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest. There were loud booms behind us, explosions—fire. Someone was trying desperately to burn us all alive, to stop us from reaching the edge of the cliffs and the ocean that lay beyond.
My wings weren't strong enough to carry me yet, but I don't think she realized that. Some of us were too young, too little, but taking that leap of faith into the ocean was better than whatever fate lay behind us and we all knew that. So when we got to the edge, we jumped. Some of us flew away, but others—like me—we plummeted into the water below.
I stared up for what felt like forever, watching the sunlight filter down through the waves and smiling because up above me I could see my friends silhouettes and I watched them fly away. They looked like angels. I accepted that I was going to die, I was okay with it, despite being so little. Because in my mind, I had made the best of friends and my last days, despite being a prisoner of war, had been some of my best.
Never in a million years, when I started blacking out, did I ever think I would end up washing up on some other beach. I didn't look like the locals so they kept me at a distance, scared, nervous of what I might do. I spent the next couple of years neglected and isolated and, well, learning how to fly. I got pretty good at it, actually. But honestly, no matter how good you are, you can only fly so far until your wings get tired and I had pushed myself well behind my limits a few hundred miles ago.
I zigged and zagged on currents of air, my hazel eyes narrowing in on some white slip of beach below. I began my descent, much less gracefully than I normally would have managed, my legs already moving as I prepared to hit the sand at a full run. Grains of it sprayed out all around me and I just kept right on going, tucking my wings in close to me. I darted past the trees so fast they blurred together, my blood hammering in my ears, my nostrils flaring.
I kept running until I found myself traveling alongside a river, I kept running until my legs wanted to give out. I didn't stop until I was made to. I skidded, sliding to a halt at a base of a tree so large that I couldn't believe it. My mouth fell open and I peered up into its moonlit branches in wonder.
How did we make it out of such an awful place alive?
I found myself wondering that more and more as time went on, we were so little when everything was happening. I would follow the tangles of memory whenever it got too quiet and I gave myself too much time to think, much like tonight. I thought about how Mama named me after the ashes of our home, she told me once, because maybe one day I would be able to rise above them. My name would be a constant reminder of the ruins we came from and I would always want to be better than that. Better than the savages that ripped our country apart. She died not long after that and I was alone for a while.
At least, until the enemy soldiers found me and took me to some canyon where the other orphans were kept. Colts were killed, no questions asked. Fillies were considered spoils of war and we would be given to someone, one day, when we were old enough so that our lines could be bred out and our mothers and fathers would be forgotten.
I was frightened and alone, and to make matters worse, my clan wasn't exactly well-liked even before the war, so the other girls took to avoiding me at first. All except Evarae.
She was a peculiarly happy face in a crowd of otherwise bleak children, her butterfly wings made her stand out even more so from the others; I couldn't understand her joy when being different made her valuable, when being so pretty made her a target. As young as I was, I understood that the leering of the soldiers who guarded us wasn't a good thing, but she did her best to stave off my fears and to cheer me up.
Despite my often morose demeanor, she would find me everyday and we would play and have fun despite our circumstances. Others joined in and soon we all became fast friends. Sometimes, even the young soldiers would join in on our antics but that was quickly put to an end one day when a higher-ranking member caught them and they were taken away to be punished. We never saw those young stallions ever again.
After that, things seemed to get worse.
I'm not sure if that caused it or the fact our enemies were winning the war, but soon, they started taking the older girls away. One by one. Until it was really just the group we often played with.
I remember Evarae waking us all up one morning, I remember the panic in her voice. I remember her leading us up to the top of the canyon and I remember running until it felt like my heart was going to explode in my chest. There were loud booms behind us, explosions—fire. Someone was trying desperately to burn us all alive, to stop us from reaching the edge of the cliffs and the ocean that lay beyond.
My wings weren't strong enough to carry me yet, but I don't think she realized that. Some of us were too young, too little, but taking that leap of faith into the ocean was better than whatever fate lay behind us and we all knew that. So when we got to the edge, we jumped. Some of us flew away, but others—like me—we plummeted into the water below.
I stared up for what felt like forever, watching the sunlight filter down through the waves and smiling because up above me I could see my friends silhouettes and I watched them fly away. They looked like angels. I accepted that I was going to die, I was okay with it, despite being so little. Because in my mind, I had made the best of friends and my last days, despite being a prisoner of war, had been some of my best.
Never in a million years, when I started blacking out, did I ever think I would end up washing up on some other beach. I didn't look like the locals so they kept me at a distance, scared, nervous of what I might do. I spent the next couple of years neglected and isolated and, well, learning how to fly. I got pretty good at it, actually. But honestly, no matter how good you are, you can only fly so far until your wings get tired and I had pushed myself well behind my limits a few hundred miles ago.
I zigged and zagged on currents of air, my hazel eyes narrowing in on some white slip of beach below. I began my descent, much less gracefully than I normally would have managed, my legs already moving as I prepared to hit the sand at a full run. Grains of it sprayed out all around me and I just kept right on going, tucking my wings in close to me. I darted past the trees so fast they blurred together, my blood hammering in my ears, my nostrils flaring.
I kept running until I found myself traveling alongside a river, I kept running until my legs wanted to give out. I didn't stop until I was made to. I skidded, sliding to a halt at a base of a tree so large that I couldn't believe it. My mouth fell open and I peered up into its moonlit branches in wonder.
[ooc: Evarae mentioned with Taz's permission.]
I'll take you to the dark side.