The island reminds her of the past. Fire and brimstone. The smell of death on the air, like a sweet incense to her back then. Salt on her tongue and in her wounds. It stings even now, after all these years, and she knows there’s nothing she can do. Some punishments were meant to be endured. Her decisions were never easy or good for anyone, they were made from selfishness and stubbornness because Echidna did not think beyond herself.
On the island, she stood on the brink, and chose to take the plunge into the ocean. Maybe it was a cowardly thing to do but she doesn’t care, if she felt any regret, it was only a passing thing until her attention was drawn elsewhere. Her needs were simple. They revolved around her need to survive and to slip through the world independent, unaligned, and not concerned with the affairs of others.
Right now, the air is heavy. It weighs down on her, sinks into her skin. Her mind, which is coming back to life slowly and surely, reflects briefly on the events which have brought her here. The spotted mare stands on muscled legs and stares blankly with dark eyes. There is the gentle ruffle of branches above her heads, birds or monkeys, perhaps a lizard or something more alien. This place is wild and borders the uncanny, it reminds her of a time long past – perhaps the world she was born into so long ago. Her golden ears flick and so does her tail. Her coat is lackluster, dusty from her travels across this forsaken place.
Then she blinks and the island transforms into a solitary meadow. Soft grass, low sunlight, and the ever-pressing chill of winter. Echidna lifts her blocky head and she takes in a deep breath until her lungs ache. She exhales fog and it floats around her head like a halo. How could she have slipped so far into her past? Put herself back on that tiny spit of land and let go of everything? Echidna looks around herself at the meadow and the light drift of snow, she feels the cold puncturing her skin like teeth.
Her idea of this place was like some strange comedy. She remembers only vaguely the panther mare in the woods, some wraith-like figure named Naga – they’d encountered each other in quiet respect. There was something Echidna liked about the other mare but it wasn’t something to dwell on now because she had no idea if Naga was even still alive. The spotted mare shrugs her shoulders and lowers her head down to pick at the dying grass.
E C H I D N A
hell don't need me