12-24-2020, 02:21 PM
Persiphae couldn’t believe her luck this morning – an owl pellet, several nights old, lay nestled in the frosted autumn leaves at her hooves. Her white nose and forelegs had been scuffed with mud from her search, rooting around in the composting material not unlike a keen hog sniffing out truffles. She could sense the bones wrapped in matted fur and dried saliva, could see the discarded, indigestible, mineralized connective tissues that worked beneath the surface – the frame of organic creatures. A foundation for the body, a tool for the soul.
She stepped back, the capsule now exposed to the misty dawn and surrounded by a circlet of damp leaves. The filly slowed her breath and focused her emerald eyes at the ball of fur and bones, a steady plume of moisture billowing from her nostrils. It was the only movement present in the windless forest that morning… for a moment.
In the tranquility of the quiet fog is when the pellet began to stir, birthing each bone as it wriggled through the threads of matted fur. As the skull sprouted forth, it tore it’s nest in two, the yellowed incisors of the deceased rodent emerging first. Soon, the remainder of the spine snaked out, and each tiny phalange fell into place on the suspended skeleton. The last pieces to animate were the bones comprising the mouse’s tail, with the final vertebra caught on a strand of fur. Persiphae’s nostrils flared as she funneled a push of extra energy into her efforts, and soon the bone tumbled free from its snare like a cog snapping into place.
The complete skeleton hovered over the forest floor, suspended by the will of the ashen filly. She felt a chill – whether it was from the perspiration that had begun to form beneath her short mane or from satisfaction, she couldn’t tell.
Persiphae