02-28-2017, 03:35 PM
With my speechless calm eyes,
nothing is coming to rise.
One step. ”Okay.” Two step. ”You can do this.” Three step. Three is followed by four, five, six, and so on. But all step by careful step. He cannot see where he is going, he cannot see what might be in his way. Once it hadn’t been a problem to navigate around without sight, but after having had the luxury of being able to see, it was pretty damn hard to be blind again.
Never before in his life had Brynmor felt this insecure. As a colt he had learned how to live with his handicap and though slow, he had always managed to navigate himself around. Yes, of course had he bumped into things occasionally or had he underestimated trotting, bucking and rearing. But the gray male had never felt insecure. It was like the old knowledge had been deleted out of his system, like he had forgotten all he knew once he had been able to see.
It had been Djinni who had granted his careless whispered wish. It had been her who had given him sight. He had been able to see the world’s wonders with his own eyes. But the fairies had taken it from him. As they had taken all the magic from the world. Though he cannot think of it as fair, he also cannot be angry with them. They had given them the this world. They had given them life, friends, loved ones, family. And a home. They should be ever grateful for all that. Brynmor was. Just like he accepts fact that his eyes are a milky bluish white again, but he does not like it.
By the time he reaches the small stream – taking much longer than necessary – his sides are covered with sweat. He had barely been moving, but for the Welsh Cob hybrid it had been quite intensive. ”Water..” he mumbles, his head slowly lowering and touching the ground as to search for where the waterside would be. Grass, earth and then, water. With a hasty step he dips his head lower, eagerly drinking his thirst away.
BRYNMOR