But now this picture from me fades

seen it in my head, burning my heart; He approached under the canopy of the forest. Trees creaked and groaned in the summer breeze and hotly it slipped through the forestry. Flowers rose in a sea of colours, bluebells rising like a blue haze, so still and serene. The soft scent of bursting flowers rose everywhere, so sweet and intricate upon the tongue. The buzzing of a bee drones, as it flurries about, drifting idly between flowers trailing pollen from its fragile limbs. About his skull small flies swarm, intent to feel the head that radiated from his obsidian coat, for that summer sun was becoming too much, too heated and too overwhelming. Oh how those insects dipped and wove about him, to just rest for a second upon his warm skin. Their touch was so soft, almost unfelt, yet their limbs played across sensitive nerves and they awoke to the tickling stimuli. Electricity slipped through his nerves and his skin quivered in response, tail flicking to better drive away the pesky midges. The ground beneath his limbs was hard, water drawn by the sun from the surface, but the vibrant flowers that blossomed about Voraer, betrayed the pool of water that still lingered deep beneath the ground. It had been little more than 18 months since he had run, blind and wild through this very woodland, the burn in his eyes driving him to insanity. Still then he had been in tune with the creature that lurked within him. The one that still longed to flee, that answered his nerves and thoughts with a fitful shiver and drove his desires with heated passion. It was a creature that was becoming choked, that could not breathe, that was allowed out for mere seconds. It nature and instinct that ruled the beast and over time it had been restrained, bound like a fretful dog. It longed for freedom, brief glances of daylight were not enough and it was building like the murmurs of a crowd threatening to break like a wave upon the shore, blast into a crescendo of sound that would drive the Spanish creature to distraction. This day his nature longed for more. The murmurs were loud and unrestrained, they whispered to his nerves and they quivered nervously. His skin rippled as muscles quaked, sweat broke out like crystals over his skin and how he moved now, his body drawn and tense. The crimson sky was falling to black, the golden sun concealed behind the smokey clouds and through the canopy of trees the first droplets of rain fell. So swiftly the storm had found this thought ravaged stallion and gathered about him like shadows. His aquamarine was still against his skin, silent and despite its soothing warmth it remained impassive for the shadows that stalked in about him. The first peel of thunder ripped through the air as the lightning tore the sky and upon the ground the tenuous tether snapped. Voraer ran, as frantic and wild as he had the first day he had come to Hoof Prince. Never had he run since, yet this day he fled, skin crawling for the fingers of thoughts that chased him like dogs. His nostrils flared as he sucked the air deep into his lungs and it scolded him. Airways dilated and flared, wild with desire to draw in and succumb to the summer air, yet how the air clawed at his lungs and soon they felt raw. The pain seeped through his nerves like a drug, blissful and unfeeling. Gnarled arms of trees reached for his body, their flames bearing clawed twigs that snagged at his skin. He could not flee fast enough, he could not escape the anger that pulsed in his veins, nor the sadness and confusion that drowned him from the inside. Memories hunted him like wolves, cutting his mind and severing his emotions and behind him they lay and churned and torn as the soil beneath his flighty limbs. Peeling from the wall of trees he broke out into the meadow to the climax of the skies. Red lightning creased the skies and rain fell like knives upon his skin. The chill air that swept in with the storm danced about Voraer as he slowed, limbs aching and shivering from exertion. His mane, like serpents snapped at his throat, stinging like poison teeth. Ears fell to his skull as darkness seeped in upon him and still he did not call upon his aquamarine, but merely allowed the shadows of the storm to encompass him; like the dark memories of the past that clogged his mind. V O R A E R I found her in a dream, looking for me Doesn't make sense, see her again I don't, know