The lonesomeness grows until a playmate appears, made of whispers and fog and tears, a colt like himself in all ways but one: incorporeal, he, and for that matter, only real in Limb's belief. The two friends gallivant in the day through lands of vast kinds, from mountains to lakes to forests of tall, tall pines. In the thrill of their chase Limb loses the lonesomeness. He has plants and starlight and his imaginary friend to keep him company here, in his rebirth. thirsts.
But when day turns to night, and his shadow melts into the darkness, he feels the acute pang of his farce bore plain 'neath his horn's dim light.
If only he could remember the before-before. If only he could lay claim to more. As it stands, Limb can lay claim to nothing; losing his grip on his past life's knowledge demands that he restart, untrusting. And in the gloom of twilight cusping unto dark, Limb wonders, morosely, if it has all been for naught.
"Excuse me, do you know the way back to the ruins?"
Her voice startles the colt, gangly and tall. He spooks skyward, legs and all; and when he regains his composure, it is with nostrils flared, curiosity writ across his features beneath his horn's glare. He thinks of his travels, fast, fast, wanting to please the gold filly with her waxing smile, and at long last:
"The ruins!" (No, no, Limb, don't sound excited--) "Er, no, I can't say that I have been-- He ducks his head, hides his yellow eyes as the meadow's wildflowers crawl up his thighs. He frowns at the blossoms, confused at their climb; this must be a leftover habit from a life left behind. But he shakes the thought loose and looks up again, to the girl with the glow coming off her soft bends. "But I would love to escort you--or join you, that is. In finding them, I mean. The ruins." He winces, wishing to have practiced talking rather than playing with his imaginary friend. "I don't have a home, so it would be no trouble at all for me to see you safely home before night's end."
"Not that you need seeing to, that is...
Gosh, I sound awful. It's been a long time since I talked with... anyone? Please, let me try again. Would it be okay if I joined you on your search? I might not be much help, but, uhm. My name is Limb..."
But when day turns to night, and his shadow melts into the darkness, he feels the acute pang of his farce bore plain 'neath his horn's dim light.
If only he could remember the before-before. If only he could lay claim to more. As it stands, Limb can lay claim to nothing; losing his grip on his past life's knowledge demands that he restart, untrusting. And in the gloom of twilight cusping unto dark, Limb wonders, morosely, if it has all been for naught.
"Excuse me, do you know the way back to the ruins?"
Her voice startles the colt, gangly and tall. He spooks skyward, legs and all; and when he regains his composure, it is with nostrils flared, curiosity writ across his features beneath his horn's glare. He thinks of his travels, fast, fast, wanting to please the gold filly with her waxing smile, and at long last:
"The ruins!" (No, no, Limb, don't sound excited--) "Er, no, I can't say that I have been-- He ducks his head, hides his yellow eyes as the meadow's wildflowers crawl up his thighs. He frowns at the blossoms, confused at their climb; this must be a leftover habit from a life left behind. But he shakes the thought loose and looks up again, to the girl with the glow coming off her soft bends. "But I would love to escort you--or join you, that is. In finding them, I mean. The ruins." He winces, wishing to have practiced talking rather than playing with his imaginary friend. "I don't have a home, so it would be no trouble at all for me to see you safely home before night's end."
"Not that you need seeing to, that is...
Gosh, I sound awful. It's been a long time since I talked with... anyone? Please, let me try again. Would it be okay if I joined you on your search? I might not be much help, but, uhm. My name is Limb..."