His father had been winter, deep and dark. That’s what his mother told him, her warm breath against his neck. She whispered secrets to him no one else would ever know.
About the jungle they lived in, about eternity and betrayal. Her voice muddles in his brain now and he hardly remembers the true version. She told him so many things -- sorting lies from the truth nearly impossible. He thinks about her on lonely nights. Now, she is far away from him, tucked away in her jungle impossibly out of reach.
He is detached from life he lived on the islands, brought to this new place by chance. A child born from two very different worlds. His father deep and mysterious, his mother bright and flighty. Isak grew up in the jungle and thought there would never be another place like it, his heart bled for the place he was born in. Here in these new surroundings he is left with a hollow feeling in his chest, it slithers between each of his ribs until a dull pain radiates throughout his entire body.
The Beqanna winter is harsh, freezing the very marrow in his bones. Isak never experienced such a season in all his life and his body never learned how to accommodate the blistering cold. His coat is still unbearably thin, sleek like summertime.
With a sigh, the bay stallion shuffles through the snow. His knees barely bending as he carries his sluggish body across the vast meadow, or what he believed to be a meadow. It was hard to decipher exactly what this place was when the winter cold wasn’t dominating every feature. He lowers his muzzle to the ground, sniffing at the white powder, trying to find even the merest mouthful of something to eat.
About the jungle they lived in, about eternity and betrayal. Her voice muddles in his brain now and he hardly remembers the true version. She told him so many things -- sorting lies from the truth nearly impossible. He thinks about her on lonely nights. Now, she is far away from him, tucked away in her jungle impossibly out of reach.
He is detached from life he lived on the islands, brought to this new place by chance. A child born from two very different worlds. His father deep and mysterious, his mother bright and flighty. Isak grew up in the jungle and thought there would never be another place like it, his heart bled for the place he was born in. Here in these new surroundings he is left with a hollow feeling in his chest, it slithers between each of his ribs until a dull pain radiates throughout his entire body.
The Beqanna winter is harsh, freezing the very marrow in his bones. Isak never experienced such a season in all his life and his body never learned how to accommodate the blistering cold. His coat is still unbearably thin, sleek like summertime.
With a sigh, the bay stallion shuffles through the snow. His knees barely bending as he carries his sluggish body across the vast meadow, or what he believed to be a meadow. It was hard to decipher exactly what this place was when the winter cold wasn’t dominating every feature. He lowers his muzzle to the ground, sniffing at the white powder, trying to find even the merest mouthful of something to eat.