Who cares if hell awaits?
We're having drinks at heaven's gate.
She trembles.
Maribel was not the first to come to mind when you imagined bravery, courageousness. You imagined a rather intimidating black stallion with dreaded hair and piercing red eyes...not the delicate waif of gold body and silver hair.
But-
But here she was standing shoulder to shoulder with all the others. The flutter of her heart rattles in it's bone cage, fleeting and frightened but Mari steels herself as she listens to her father's words. Today she is not a daughter of Offspring and Isle. No, she is a tundra maiden seeking her place amongst the ranks and she would earn it today or stay within the cave for as long as necessary. She would not fail her parents for she owed them so very, very much.
She feels like she is floating and does not realize that her body is moving on it's own will and she is merging ahead of the others. She is first. She volunteers to be the leading initiate. Blue eyes remain on Offspring for fear of removing them would draw away the nerve that she desperately is clung to. "Father-" Her voice feel so small, "I will go first." The last few words are stronger, weighted.
Good.
The lithe form of the honeycomb girl is moving her to the mouth of the cave. The dampness swells her nostrils and she can feel the fingers of the chill seeping into her bones but she still presses on. The sound of dripping water, the shards of broken rocks and ice are bruising her tender feet, the thud-thud-thud of her heart beat echoing in her ears. It is all that she can sense, all the while, the mouth of the cave is growing smaller as it swallows her whole.
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"MOMMY! MOMMY DON'T GO!"
Maribel can see herself. The tiny fluff of sunshine, on too thin legs attached to a bony rib cage. Winzy, her mother, is pushing the child off and down so that she falls against the dirt. Fat wet trails are cutting through the dirt on her cheeks and off her chin. Little Maribel is crying, crying, crying. Winzy could not be swayed and easily is gone through the thick grass long before the small image of herself can find her own feet (bogged down from lack of food and interaction) but the child tries so, so hard. The saw grass is cutting her tiny form so that there are small trickles of red running down against the dulled gold of her starving hide. The salt of her tears sting the open wounds on her skin...
The whimpering of the tiny child is enough to drive her mad. The desperate pleading of the child she once was is shattering her from inside out and Maribel begins to scream to drown it out. The scream is thick and wet with the glutted savageness of a wild, disturbed creature. The scream vibrates the entire cave as she shakes it with every ounce of her soul.
"She left me for dead!"
"She left me for dead!"
"SHE LEFT MEEE!!"
The scream climaxes to a shriek of borderline insanity as Maribel witnesses a part of her that she had long stuffed away in the corner of her mind. The very moment of her memory had been that of abandonment, unwanted, undesired. She can feel her throat bleeding as she screams but she can not stop. The primal voice of her shredded throat is enough for a cracked stalactite to vibrate from it's grip and plummet toward Mari. Thankfully it would miss her mostly, catching only against the skin on her right eye and dragging it enough to cause a heavy gash starting above her right eye to a few inches underneath it.
The sudden searing hot pain quiets her. She is reflecting, processing. Her fractured mind is moving her towards the inky pool of placid water that lay within the cave. When Mari stand before it, she can see the tear streaked face of the once forgotten child. Her own tears mingle with the motionless pool as it begins to beckon to her. Soothing her and whispering sweet things as the bottomless liquid licks her ankles delicately, invitingly. It laps her up greedily to her knees-
(I'm so cold)
the water beckons her further till she can no longer feel her limbs...but somehow, somewhere, the bloom of warmth in her chest as her heart slows is soothing her. The slow methodical beat is a lullaby as she feels her head finally slip beneath the icy water.
(peace at last)
---------------
She does not know how much time has passed. She is saturated to her bones and shivering. Pins and needles are all she can feel when she struggles to her feet. The blue of her eyes are sharp and piecing with unrelenting knowledge. It feel like days before she finally finds the mouth of the cave, emerging with bluish lips and the evidence of the cave pool waters freezing the ends of her mane and tail when a few fat snowflakes begin to cling to her skin eagerly. Mari moves slowly but with steady force to stand before her father. She seeks his red eyes with her own blue to wait for his approval or disapproval. Small frosted plumes form with the shake of her jagged breath but Mari refuses to budge before hearing what her father has to say.
She does not seem to feel the sear of the rather large black mehdni scar of intricate designs that had formed between her withers, stretching down from the spine to her shoulders before spreading forward to interlock on the front of her chest and forming a breathtaking flower. It suited the young mare and the essence of her very being. The scar is finely detailed and so much more than what meets the eye but it was there and boldly worn, nonetheless. She would wear the large scar like a breastplate of armor that she had earned for the rest of her years.
M A R I B E L
