Hours pass. Maybe days. He watches the fire rage below, consuming Beqanna in its orange jaws. Cries taint the crackling of the fire. Horses, wolves, monkeys. Inside the fire, they all sound the same. They sound like static. Like the langoliers at the end of the world. But of course, this is the end of the world.
He watches the snow that isn’t snow billowing in the sky. The wind that carries the ash also feeds the flames below. The ground, even up on the mountain, is gray with the papery remains of flesh and bone and trees.
Destruction looks and sounds the same. In the end, it doesn't matter what you are.
He watches until his eyes burn from sleep deprivation or smoke or both. He watches until he cannot keep them open anymore. When he closes his eyes, the screaming has died to nothing. There’s nothing left. Just trees and grass and wind to feed the inferno. The crackling becomes his lullaby, and he sleeps.
A nose pokes him awake. He jumps and tenses, ready to fight whatever has found him, though he knows nothing of fighting. His eyes are still raw, and his vision blurry, but he can tell the nose belongs to another horse. In fact it's a boy, around Rhonan's age. Though the boy's coat is chestnut and not pretty pretty princess gold like Rhonan's.
This boy looks impossibly clean. Either he’s been living on the mountain all along or had found somewhere to take a bath. The boy grins. “Oh good. You’re alive. Had to check.” Rhonan remains silent, staring at the boy. He wanted to be alone. He wanted to stand here and stare at the destruction. Horror and fascination called him to peek over the mountain and look. Despite his present company, he did so anyway.
Beqanna is gone. Completely gone. Rhonan thinks decades must have come and gone. So much destruction cannot happen overnight, can it? But of course he knows that it has. The sun is low in the sky but growing brighter. Dawn. Only one night has passed, but that one night took Beqanna with it. The boy comes to stand beside him, looking over the edge of the mountain. “Yea,” he says, because that is the only thing to say.
Rhonan turns to look at this boy who has decided to stick around. Then he turns back to the destruction, but something gray catches his attention on his other side. He turns to look, and there’s another boy. Who came out of fucking nowhere. Okay, not actually nowhere. But it sure felt like it. Rhonan jumps, knocking into the chestnut kid and almost tumbling down the mountain. “Jesus Christ,” he hisses. It is the first thing he’s said in days, and the words hurt. His throat's as raw as his eyes, and he swears it must be bleeding. Blood trickling down his throat. Would he be able to taste that?
The chestnut laughs in a good-natured way, but Rhonan glares at him. The gray colt stays silent. “I’m Gero,” the chestnut boy says. “And this is Noah.” The gray boy just nods once. He is the opposite of the chestnut. Gero appears composed, head high. All calm and cool and collected. Especially given all that has just happened. Noah doesn’t look one hundred percent real. More like ninety-five percent real. His head is down, his eyes are dark and bottomless, and he just stares ahead at the destruction. It looks like a breeze could spirit him away at any given moment.
“Rhonan,” he finally says. His voice is all gravel and rough edges. Maybe the smoke destroyed his vocal chords. Would he sound like this forever? He has no idea. And he doesn’t care. He figures they are dead already. There’s nowhere to go, and from the look of the mountain, there’s no food. Maybe some water, but hell, maybe the fire destroyed all the rivers too.
“Since you are alive and all introduced now, lets go. There are others.” Gero turns to leave without waiting for an answer. Noah follows, and Rhonan finds himself compelled to follow as well. Others? There are others that survived? He’s already amazed there are three of them. Children nonetheless. Maybe they had the distinct advantage of being short enough to avoid the worst of the smoke. Or maybe they were just damn lucky.
Though he wonders if Gero was ever in the fire. The boy looks like he knows the mountain well, like he’s spent actual time here. Not just one miserable night of smoke inhalation. And Noah? He sort of thinks Noah just appeared here, and that was that.
His newfound companions are strange ones. Are they trying to be his friends, or are they going to butcher him and use him as food? The latter seemed more plausible. Rhonan with friends? That was just laughable.
But Gero leads him down the mountain just a bit, and there they are. The others. Some mill around, looking as lost as Rhonan feels. A few sniffle, one of the mares sobs. There are a shocking number of children up here. He sees two more colts not far off. One bay, one bay splashed with white. There’s also a disproportionate amount of males, and just a few females. Well, if they are going to be repopulating the earth, it’s going to take forever. And half the stallions will kill each other trying to do the honors.
Gero leads them to a blue roan mare. She appears to be holding court. There’s a buckskin stallion with her, nodding at whatever she’s saying. A bay stallion waits a few feet away. They draw closer, stopping a respectful distance away. “Yes, thank you Harold,” the mare says. Harold? What kind of name is Harold? Rhonan snorts, drawing a quick glance from the mare and a bump on the shoulder from Gero. Oh, stuff it. Rhonan rolls his eyes.
Harold nods to the mare and heads down the mountain. The blue roan looks over to the waiting bay stallion and says, “Give me a moment, will you?” He nods, and continues to wait. The mare turns her attention on the three boys with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. Rhonan can't blame her. The world just burned to the ground. How anyone can manage a polite smile is beyond him. Then again, Rhonan has never managed a polite smile; even when the world was peachy keen.
She holds herself like a Queen, like giving commands and running a rag tag group of horses is normal. Perhaps she was a Queen in their last life. Beqanna feels like a distant memory now. His crow feels altogether like a dream.
“You found one,” she says to Gero, nodding in Rhonan’s direction.
“I did. His name is Rhonan. Though I think he might be the last one.” Gero replies. Last one what? Last survivor?
The blue roan sighs, her smile fading. “I was afraid of that. Though I suppose thirteen survivors is a good number for a disaster of that size. Still…” She trails off, looking toward Beqanna. Well, the smoldering remains of it anyway. From here, it’s harder to see the destruction, but not impossible.
In the distance, everything is black. The ash-choked sky meets the land with an inky kiss. There is nothing to see out there anymore. Still, they keep looking. Maybe out of hope. Though he thinks it’s because it’s impossible not to look. Like picking a scab. It hurts, but everyone picks anyway. There’s something captivating about watching it bleed.
The mare shakes her head, and turns her attention back to Rhonan. “I’m Malene. We each have jobs here, if you haven’t picked up on that yet. Gero and Noah were scouting for survivors. But since there likely aren’t anymore, I suppose you boys need a new job.” You boys? What, is he stuck with them now? He’s not sure how he feels about that. Rhonan prefers to wander on his own. He flies solo. All that jazz. But then again, he knows nothing about this little herd, and Gero seems pretty confident. Noah just seems to be along for the ride. Rhonan can live with that vibe.
“Why don’t you join Azula?” Malene asks. Though it’s not a question. It’s a polite command. “She went down the mountain about an hour ago. Said she was heading west. I doubt she got far. If the four of you work together, perhaps you can split up and cover more ground.” Gero nods like this makes perfect sense. Though it doesn’t. Rhonan has no idea why they need to cover ground. What ground? It’s all charred. Unless they want to live in the ashes. He will not be joining. Actually, wait. He’ll roll around enough to hide his pretty pretty princess coat and then he’ll leave.
Malene turns to the bay stallion that’s waiting. The signal is clear enough without her saying. Dismissed. Again, Gero leads. They head down the mountain, which seems like the stupidest plan to Rhonan. “Where are we going?” he finally asks. Gero stops for a moment, looks at him, and then continues walking forward with a sigh. Like Rhonan should know. Like this is the most obvious answer in the world. “We are going to scout for somewhere to live.”
Oh.
They find Azula down the mountain, in the west, as Malene said. At least, Rhonan assumes this is Azula. She’s young, though not quite as young as the boys. He’d guess a year older than them, making her three. Though then again, what does he know? She’s not beautiful in a traditional way, but she is mesmerizing. Her coat is black, but parts of her mane and tail are blue. Her mane sticks up in random places. Her eyes are blue as well, bright and vibrant against her black coat. Her look is eclectic rather than beautiful. Though Gero, and even quiet Noah, seem to appreciate her.
“Azula,” Gero says, nodding as they join her. “This is Rhonan.” Rhonan was definitely the last to join the party. Everyone already knows one another. “We’re here to help you scout. How’s it going?”
Azula looks Rhonan over, appraising him before turning her attention back to Gero. “Terrible, as predicted. I haven’t found any path off this mountain that isn’t burnt to a crisp. And there’s not enough food on the mountain to sustain us for that long.”
Gero and Azula talk about where she’s been and a strategy to cover more ground. Noah and Rhonan stand semi-listening, semi-sleeping just a little ways off. At one point, Rhonan can’t help but look at Noah and roll his eyes at this whole conversation. It’s been a solid ten minutes of strategy. Noah rolls his shoulders in a shrug.
“Hey,” Rhonan finally says, breaking into the endless conversation. “I have a plan. I’m going that way.” He nods his head to the right and then starts walking. Noah follows without a sound. Gero and Azula pick their own direction, he assumes. He hears their footsteps fading away behind him.
They spend the better part of the day walking. Noah is a silent companion, and Rhonan finds himself growing rather fond of the ghostly boy. Every time Rhonan turns around, he swears Noah ends up somewhere he wasn’t a second before. Rhonan must be the worst ever at paying attention. Because the boy just small, not actually a ghost. Right? He thinks so, anyway.
The path they are on begins to smell of ash and smoke, and his eyes water. The land before them turns black, and there is nowhere to go. So they turn around, and try again.
The next few days are much the same. They trek down the mountain. They pick new paths. Rhonan and Noah walk in silence All four meet up at the end of the day and return home empty handed. Gero and Azula walk faster, both with purpose, and Rhonan and Noah lag behind. Noah because he is nothing on his own, it seems. Rhonan because he doesn’t see the point in moving any faster.
Some number of days pass. Two? A week? They all blend together and Rhonan doesn’t keep track. There’s an unspoken rule in the herd not to talk about the fire. Not to mention how many days have gone by. Not to talk about lost love ones. Or mention kingdoms, or Beqanna, or anything from the past. At night, sometimes he hears muffled sobs or whispered conversations. But during the day, they throw themselves into work. They pretend as though this is the only life they have ever known.
Rhonan has lived three lives already. How many more would there be? His crow. The fires. His three improbable friends.
Today, whatever day that may be, the two colts he had seen on his arrival are not in their usual location. Today, they are right in his path. In a moment, the colts flank him. Rhonan looks around for Noah, but the gray boy is already gone. Coward, Rhonan thinks, but keeps his mouth shut. The one colt is solid bay, and the other bay tobiano. They look alike, and could be brothers. Maybe twins. Like Rhonan. Though he doesn’t know if he counts as a twin now. If his twin is dead, what does that make him?
“I’ve been watching you,” the bay one says.
“That’s creepy, man.” Rhonan says without thinking. Both of the boys are older than him. They are actually stallions, not colts at all. Rhonan considers them boys anyway. Something about their demeanor, the gleam in their eyes. He knows who they are, if only through conversation. The bay is Kav, the bay tobiano Tanner. Their job, as far as anyone knows, is to stand around and do nothing.
“You should be flattered. We think you’re worth our while.” Rhonan is not flattered. The bay tobiano, the obvious lackey, scoots in closer. What? Cause Rhonan’s going to run somewhere? Up the fucking mountain, sure. And then where? There’s no escape, so he just keeps walking. They keep walking with him. “You hear me? I’m telling you you could live like a king. Like we do.”
At this Rhonan stops. He turns to face the bay colt/stallion. He’s debating if he wants to hear more or kick the boy. But he has no chance to decide, because the boy's already talking. “There’s food. And not that paltry chicken scratch Harold found.” At this, Rhonan's interest stirs. Harold had found food, but the pickings were slim. He hadn’t felt full in days. Or was it years? It felt like years.
“I’ll show you tonight. Just go to sleep like normal.” Kav says, as if Rhonan had agreed. Though he hadn’t refused either. And he did want to know. Where was this food?
Night doesn’t come fast enough, and Rhonan finds that he’s almost too anxious to sleep. Which is strange for the boy that doesn’t give two shits about anything. But food. Oh, he longs for food. He dreams of food. And that is what he does, when sleep finally comes. He dreams of endless, green grass.
Someone noses him awake. Rhonan jumps, ready to fight, until he makes out the shape of Kav, hears the familiar chuckle. “What is it with you people and this waking me up shit?” he grumbles. He’s not enjoying this way of waking him up. Maybe he should just quit sleeping. At least then no one could scare the crap out of him. He has no sense for someone coming up on him. No flight skills against a predator. He sleeps like a rock.
“Eyes closed, fresh meat. It’s a surprise.” Rhonan does as told. He doesn’t even know why. He doesn’t take direction. But here he is following Gero, following Kav. What the hell is wrong with him? Oh right. Beqanna burned to the ground and he’s just trying to survive till tomorrow. Or get killed fast. Either option is cool. Slow, drawn out deaths are not on his cool list though. He’s trying to skip that one.
Kav and Tanner flank him, shoulders brushing his. They lead him this way, one foot and then the next. He tries to peek, but Tanner slams into his right side every time his eyes flutter. So Kav is leading, Rhonan is following Kav, and Tanner’s actually just staring at Rhonan’s face. What a sight they must be. Thank god it’s the middle of the night, and no one else is looking.
They walk for hours. In reality, maybe twenty minutes. But with dickhead and ass wad on either side of him, it feels like hours. He doesn’t like either stallion, but they are necessary. They have food. He has no idea what either of them sees in him. Did they hope Rhonan would be malleable? Another lackey? Cause that’s not gonna fly, boys. The pretty pretty princess is his own man.
“Alright, open ‘em.” Rhonan opens his eyes and oh holy hell. It’s beautiful. The moon is bright overhead, shining through a hole in what he thinks must be a cave. Rock surrounds him. But inside the cave there is bright green grass, small bushes and a gurgling river. Kav holds himself like the king he professes to be, a wild grin on his face. “Eat,” he says.
Rhonan eats without question. The grass is too beautiful to resist. It shines in the moonlight. There’s no ash in here, no charred flesh in this food. He swears he’s never had grass so good. Though of course this is just any old grass. But compared to the crap they found on the mountain, garnished with burnt horse, this is heaven. He can’t even remember what grass before the mountain tasted like.
“Why don’t you bring everyone here?” Rhonan asks. Kav and Tanner are smirking at him. He must look stunned. Or amazed. Or just like the biggest fat kid ever. Whatever. He’s in love with this grass.
“Look around. This is a small space. How long do you think this would last with thirteen horses eating?” Kav says, taking a lazy bite of the grass. “I’m only sharing with those of us that can survive this horror.”
He doesn’t know how he feels about that. What made Rhonan worth more than Gero, or Azlua, or Noah? What made him more likely to survive than any of the others? Or Malene, for that matter, who kept their band together and functioning. What would happen if she died? But the grass here, oh, it’s so good. He can’t bring himself not to eat. Not even the guilt in the pit of his stomach can make his stop.
They lead him back the same way. Tanner and Kav flank his sides, and no matter what he does, he can’t peak. He has no idea where the cave is. No idea what direction they’ve gone in. No one else has found this place in their exploration. Well, at least no one has told anyone about it. Though he suspects that no one else has found it. Only Kav is shitty enough to hide it from everyone else.
Well, Kav and Rhonan.
The next morning, Rhonan doesn’t tell his friends about the cave. Rhonan tells himself that he’ll try to learn where the cave is. Then he can share with his friends. But Kav’s words echo in his head. It won’t last with too many of them. And Rhonan doesn’t want to starve. That night, Kav brings him back to the cave, and they live like kings.
The days go on like this. They search the mountain for alternate places to live. Once they exhaust their options for a new home, they start searching for more food. Anything and everything. The ragtag herd is starving. Rhonan can see Noah’s ribs.
It’s becoming more and more obvious that Rhonan, Kav and Tanner are not wasting away like the rest of them. Everyone eyes the three boys with suspicion. Some of the others try to corner them, particularly Rhonan. Try to force him to show them where he’s found food. But they are too weak to fight, and he isn’t. He doesn’t answer. He shoves past them and disappears down the mountain every time.
Even his friends don’t treat him the same. They give him long, hard stares. Gero and Azula look angry. Noah looks betrayed. It’s Noah’s downcast eyes that pick at Rhonan’s conscious.
Then, one morning, Gero collapses. Rhonan can’t turn a blind eye anymore. He can’t pretend he doesn’t care about his friend. He can’t feast while the rest of them die. The sun isn’t even up when Rhonan shoves Kav awake. “Dude, you’ve got to do something. Can’t you rotate who you bring? They’re all gonna die.” Azula and Gero and Noah are going to die. The only three horses that have ever stuck around him. The only three horses he actually does give two shits about.
“So?” Kav blinks the sleep from his eyes, unimpressed with Rhonan’s little speech. “They’re all going to die anyway. Best cut their suffering short. And then when they are gone, we are the kings. Though I suppose we should save one of the mares. Maybe Azula.” He licks he lips. Actually licks his lips at the mention of Azula.
Rhonan snaps. He rears, lashing out at the bay stallion. Rhonan is shorter and smaller and weaker, but he has surprise on his side. His hooves connect with Kav’s neck and the bay screeches. “You little shit.” Rhonan doesn’t have time to land, let alone run. Kav plows into him, his head hitting Rhonan’s chest. Rhonan reels over, landing on his back. Hooves pound both his sides and he rolls on the ground, trying to get up. Tanner must be here, because he’s surrounded.
His sides are screaming, skin splitting open, blood pooling beneath him. He remembers his dream horn as it crashed against his skin. Remembers the blood that ran down his leg. He remembers the screams of the animals as they burned. He refuses to scream now, but he knows he would sound like them. He is no King. He has never been a King.
In his dreams, his world falls apart. In his life, his world falls apart.
He should stop pretending. He is just a boy that looks like a pretty pretty princess. Just a boy with a mother that ignores him and a father that’s dead. Actually, they are all dead now. He’s nothing and no one. Fuck them. Fuck them all. He doesn’t want to be a King. But he doesn’t want to die. Not by Kav’s hooves, anyway.
He screams, but the sound is angry, not pained. He rolls to the side and kicks. Hooves collide with his stomach, and he groans, but he keeps kicking. Until his hooves don't connect with anything. Until he realizes one side of him is free. He scrambles to his feet. Kav is staring behind him, and Rhonan looks around. There's Noah, standing over a crumbled Tanner. What did he do?
In a heartbeat, Kav takes off in the other direction. Rhonan stares at Noah, and Noah stares back. “You okay?” Noah asks.
Holy balls he talks.
“Aren’t you mute? “ Rhonan asks. Noah chuckles. Tanner groans, though he doesn’t move from the ground.
“Yea, you’re alright.” Noah says. Which isn't exactly true. Rhonan is definitely bleeding, but he could move. Cuts and bruises liter his sides, but nothing life threatening. Yea. Alright. He's fine.
“What, might I ask, is going on here?” Malene had come to join their little party. Rhonan hadn't heard her arrive, but his heart is still hammering in his ears. Harold and some of the other adults stand behind her. Like her secret service or personal bodyguard or something. Noah gives Malene a weak smile and a sigh. “Kav and Tanner were bored, I guess. They decided to practice their fighting skills. But it’s sorted now. Though I think Tanner needs some help.” Noah steps away from the still crumbled bay tobiano so the adults can see.
The adults rush to Tanner. Noah and Rhonan take the opportunity to disappear. When they are out of sight, Noah stops. “Now, you want to tell me what's going on? And then we can decide whether to tell Gero and Azula.”
So Rhonan tells him. About the cave, about having no idea where it is. About how damn good grass tastes when there’s no dead horse in it. He tells Noah every detail. But he doesn’t tell Noah that he was trying to find out how to get to the cave so he could share. Because he knows that’s a lie. He isn’t sure if he would have shared or not.
And then they tell the others.
“So what do we do? Azula asks, once Rhonan has told them everything. Noah’s gone silent again.
Gero rolls his shoulder in a shrug. The boy looks shaky, but at least he's standing. “Rhonan, do you have any idea where the cave is?” Gero says.
“No damn clue. We could just kill Kav.” Rhonan says.
“And kill the only horse who can find food?” Azula asks.
“So we get him to show us, and then we kill him.” His friends glare at him. They didn’t share the same mindset as he did. Also, Rhonan’s idea is stupid. Kav wasn’t going to show them anything.
The silence spreads between them. What could they do? Maybe Rhonan shouldn’t have gotten mad. Maybe he could have smuggled grass out of the cave. How the hell he was going to get hoof-fulls of grass was beyond him. Maybe he could have hid it in his cheeks. Didn’t chipmunks do that? Gross, but starving horses wouldn’t care.
Damn him. He should have thought it out. Should have come to his friends. Hell, there’s a lot of thing he should have done. Too late now, Rhonan, he tells himself. Way to be an ass.
Guys? Do you hear that? Azula is whispering, eyes wide as she looks around. They’ve all been silent, but somehow, they grow even quieter. It feels like they stop breathing. Because now that she’s pointed it out, they do hear it. The sounds are animalistic, but there are no animals left. Guttural growls and crunching of half burned leaves and twigs. Rhonan is the first to spot them.
Once, these creatures were horses. Not anymore. Their shape is horse. A head, though the eyes are dead or gone. Four legs and four hooves. But their movements are rough and jagged. Drunken, almost. But fast. So damn fast.
“Run!”
They run. Up the mountain. Which he knows is stupid, stupid, stupid. Where will they go when they get to the top? They can only go back down. But what if the monsters are coming up on all sides? He can’t even call them zombies. There’s no rotting flesh or semblance of life left. They are just charred, burned, impossible creatures.
They reach the top, Rhonan at the back of the pack. His sides scream from the bruises, his breathing ragged. The assholes must have bruised his ribs. The cuts pull wider with each step. Blood flows from his wounds. He can smell the blood. The monsters must smell it too. He’s so screwed. He smells like blood and meat. He smells like dinner.
The horses at the top of the mountain are frantic. He sees Malene, trying to keep them calm. Trying to figure out what to do. “Gero! You’re here. You’re okay. There are zombies. Or something. They’re coming up the mountain over there. She gestures in a direction opposite from where the four of them have just come. Rhonan’s heart sinks. Is there any direction they can go?
He starts circling the top of the mountain. The monsters are everywhere. Divide and conquer. How did they know how to fight? He hears Gero in the background, something about the monsters from their side as well. Rhonan isn’t listening though; he’s trying to find a path down. Somewhere, anywhere.
The river. There is a river. He bolts to that part of the mountain and he sees it. The monsters aren’t here. They seem to be staying clear of the river, though he doesn’t know how long that’ll last. But the path down is clear. They have a shot. A terrible one, but it’s the only one they’ve got.
“Here! Over here!”
He’s hardly gotten the words out before half the herd is barreling down the mountain. Kav spots him standing there, murder in his eyes. The older boy slams right into him. “I need a head start, fresh meat.” Kav growls as he races down the hill with the rest of the herd. Rhonan’s knocked off balance and tumbles, landing in a heap a few feet down. Just in case he didn’t hurt enough already. He needed a few more bruises.
He drags himself to his feet. The monsters are spilling onto the top of the mountain. “Rhonan!” Azula screams. He spins around; his friends are already well ahead of him. And he runs. His whole body feels like it’s ripping apart. Muscle peeling from bone, skin from muscle. He just wants to quit.
Maybe he should stop. Maybe if he lets the monsters eat him first, it’ll give the others time to get away. He can hear them just behind him. So close. Their footsteps thud against the ground and jar his bones. He can feel their rattling breaths like the tickle of a breeze.
He could give up. He could give himself up. And maybe he wouldn’t die without reason. Because he’s going to die. Can he save his friends? He owes them that much.
He stops and turns to face the scorched creatures. But Noah is there, facing Rhonan. He smiles, just the corners of his mouth turning up, as the monsters bear down on him. “No, Noah!” Rhonan tries to throw himself between the creatures and his friend. But the monsters are already there. Their teeth are already in Noah's back. His gray, ghostly friend disappears into the mass of black.
“No!” He wants to fight them, wants to tear them away from Noah. He wants to be five seconds earlier, not five seconds too late. He wants to do something.
But he knows there is nothing else he can do. He hears Azula screaming his name from somewhere down the mountain. He knows that if he stays, Noah will die for nothing. He knows that there’s been too much death. He knows that Noah cannot die in vain. Rhonan has to try. He has to run.
And so he runs. He forgets the pain in his legs and his side and his ribs. He forgets the fire. He forgets even the crow. He remembers Noah now, with the smile on his face. Noah before the monsters took him. And he runs like hell is chasing him down. Because it is. Because despite everything, he has to live.
rhonan.