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  • Beqanna

    version 22: awakening

    COTY

    GHAUL -- Year 209

    QOTY

    "(souls are not meant to live more than once — death was not meant to be temporary, and she is so sure that every time her heart starts to beat again that irreversible damage is further inflicted)" -- Anonya, written by Colby


    [open]  Everything is alright, if only for the Night
    #1
    He wakes up still damp and so, so cold. And alone. He pans his delicate head around the clearing he finds himself in, searching for the warm body that should be his mother. The trees filter in the weak winter sunlight. It was a good place to have a baby, quiet and peaceful. Not somewhere he wanted to stay by himself.

    He tries to stand on weak baby legs before thumping back to the soft, leaf-strewn ground. Thoughts that are more a swirl of images and impressions than anything coherent, convince him that she only stepped away for a minute. Surely a mother wouldn't be gone that long. Not when he was new and fresh to the world. Nobody would really do that right?

    Hours pass and he bleats mournfully from time to time, a distant glazed look to his eyes. The fairies had come and dried his baby soft coat and satisfied the most urgent hunger pangs, but that didn't curb the loneliness, the wrongness of him being left behind. What wasn't to like about the colt? His coat was glossy black, his eyes warm and brown. He already had a build that suggested he would grow up strong and noble. He wanted desperately to be a good son, if only someone would give him a chance.

    He tries again, and again, to take to his feet, if he could stand, he could walk. If he could walk, he could chase after his mom. Of course! That was it! She was probably waiting for him to come to her right now and he had been sitting around wallowing. How was he going to be a good son if he couldn't even figure that out? The little boy snorts in annoyance at himself and with a furrow of determination he finally stands on shaking legs. A brief whinny of joy at his small triumph is all he lets loose before walking with wobbly purpose to find his mom.

    Corvidae

    I spent all my money on a pack of cigarettes
    For a lady that I love with the name I forget

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    #2

    Kota gave birth to a tiny, crumpled, dead child. A little magpie freshly hatched, wet fur, open mouth and glazed lifeless eyes. She came to the eastern coast as soon as she felt the first pangs of a premature birth. Her heart folded neatly and tucked itself away, cracking and sinking. Her belly does not look right, hanging low too early, the movement inside stopped three days prior. She stays standing, pushing, groaning, bleeding and pacing. The dark foal drops into the cold sand, the tide’s fingers washing closer and closer by the minute.

    I’m sorry, baby.” she whispers against the stillborn’s cold wet flesh. The ghostmare, a mourning mother now, clenched her jaw and shut her blue eyes tight, tears rolling slowly down to mix with splashing sea-water and after birth on the baby’s black fur. She bid her dead child goodbye and stood in the fading light to watch the waves grab her daughter and pull her out to sea.

    She stood there for four days on the beach ̶ a spot just between the Playground and the Den.

    Her stomach writhes, her mouth dry as bone, she is forced to move on. Slowly she picks her way down the coastline and turns inland. There is a road between the Den and the Playground and it will bring her to water and grazing the quickest. She’s a few miles in when she hears the first bleats, she thinks it a dream, an illusion, a cruel trick. She freezes and the breezes tug at her pale hair. She hears it again, and again, and she goes blind to all else around her except finding the source of the sound.

    Everything between her hearing the foal and finding him, his whinny drawing her near, is a blur. She was aware that she was walking by the Dens, but it was so early she would have never guessed there would be freshly abandoned children here. She whickers, a mother’s response, a low rumble in her throat as she reaches out for him. She says nothing, but all of her senses light on fire, her muzzle searches him for injury and begins to lick him clean, and keep him from shivering in the winter’s cold. Given that she gave birth, she can nurse him, and pushes him gently to where he may find the nourishment all newborns need.


    Kota
    those great whites,
    they have big teeth


    Corvidae


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    #3
    The little midnight boy could hardly believe his eyes. He had barely made it out of the little clearing where he woke up before he heard rushed steps and saw the tovero break through the cover of the trees. He had known she would come back! He only had to meet her halfway. There was an air of desperation to the woman, but he didn't notice. He can only focus on the fact that he was no longer alone.

    The colt stood on shaky legs and nursed greedily when prompted. His mom didn't smell like he thought he remembered, but what did he know? He was being showered in love and attention and he could not be happier. His mom came back for him! He had been a good son and done what he was supposed to obviously. He had passed the test.

    The little boys chest puffs with pride and he fills with warmth between the kisses and the tasty milk. Once he has drunk his fill, he steps back and stares in awe at his beautiful momma. She was tall and striking and he hoped that he could be as big and strong as she was when he grew up! He gently bumps his head against her shoulder and squeals, overwhelmed with excitement.

    "I knew you'd come back for me! I love you momma! Did I do what I was sposed to?" His eyes are wide and innocent as children's are and a wide smile fills his tiny face. He really would be the best son!

    Corvidae

    I spent all my money on a pack of cigarettes
    For a lady that I love with the name I forget



    kota
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