“In summer, I all but lived at the falls…” That was what he had told her, the one who had asked for more. It had been cold when he had said those words, nearing the end of winter. And he had weathered it out, and spring brought everything back to life. Balthazar had come back to life too, though that had little to do with the change in the air and the sweetness of the fresh water. No, it was something else entirely. It was like a new purpose had taken hold of him, and hope was being breathed back into him. He could feel it, and some nights, he’d stay awake just so that he could breathe it in, and in, and in, until it filled him, and he felt almost dizzy with euphoria.

The voices still taunted him sometimes, and came creeping in when the world was dark and still. But Balthazar, He With Many Names, more and more often chose not to listen to them. Their words were cruel, and their voices ugly, and Balthazar was tired of listening. So he’d do his best to block them out, and he dwelled on the sound of another voice instead. A voice that was gentle, that did not speak of hurting. She spoke for healing. ‘No,’ she had told him. ‘You deserve better than them.’ And when the voices, the monsters and the memories grew to be too much for him, he’d whisper her words aloud. The nights he did this were the nights he rested the easiest.

He’d moved out of the dank little cave behind the waterfall, the one where he’d exiled himself to years ago, just before he’d left. He’d returned to it, because it had been familiar, and because its ghosts would be less. Somewhere out there was the Green Room, a clustered, hidden grove that he’d frequented as a colt, with Izarra, his best friend, who he’d grown to love, and had then lost. No, he’d only suffocate there, and so, he didn’t go looking to dig up the past. These days he was more interested in looking forwards.

He had gone searching though, but not for the Green Room. No, after the closeness of the cave, he needed space. And he wanted to see the sky. So he found a quiet spot on higher ground so that he was closer to the stars. When others approached, and spoke, Balthazar no longer fled, and he tried, and somewhat succeeded. The fiery coloured, and fiery spirited colt had found him again, and he, along with his own, some days they’d stay with Balthazar. ‘So you don’t have to be alone,’ the boy said one night. “Oh, but I’m not alone,” Balthazar had murmured to him, not wanting to disturb the boy’s father and grandfather as they slept.

They seemed broken, like he was, and their company did much to comfort him. The boy had been confused, so Balthazar he lifted his gaze. The moon was there, a thin sickle of light. “Because there is someone out there, and when I look at the moon, I like to think she is looking at it too. And even if she isn’t, just knowing that she’s there, it makes it easier to breathe.” Young Kye had stared, and then asked, ‘who?’. Balthazar just smiled a small, soft and fleeting grin. “She is reason enough for living,” was all he had said.

Kye had been confused by this, and there was a deep darkness in his eyes that he tried to hide. But Balthazar had lifted the boy’s lowered chin, and told him that it was okay. And there, with Balthazar alone as his witness, the colt had cried for the first time in his life, he cried for the mother he had lost. And it hurt Balthazar so much to see him that way, because he had been just like Kye years ago, grieving and loneliest when he’d been surrounded by others. ‘All I have is my anger and hate, and I hurt everyone I love, because I… Because I don’t have a reason for living...’ They had stood in silence for a few moments, before Balthazar stirred. “You should go and find one Kye,” he said, his gaze searching the heavens again. ‘Okay, I will. And when I’ve found one, I’ll come back and tell you.’. Balthazar flicked an ear at his words, showing that he’d heard them. ‘Why are you here, Balthazar? What are you waiting for? You should go…’.

“Because… I want to show her that I… That I’m trying,” he said, the words coming slowly, but surely. “She is so good, Kye, but I don’t think she knows it. So I want to try and help her see, somehow. So I’m waiting, for the moon to be full. To shine brightly with all it has. Strong, and healthy, and better than it was before. And then I’ll go to her again, and stand beside her, and we’ll look up at it together, and maybe I’ll have the courage to say, ‘Look, Jezibelle. See how your moon shines for you?’ ”

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Kye had come back the night just past, and his kin had trailed after him. And they had stood together beneath the night sky, and gazed up at the moon. It was full and round, the sky was clear, and they said nothing to each other, for there was nothing for them to say. Kye’s white blanket seemed to glow, as did Balthazar’s mane and tail, and those of Kye’s father. Balthazar moved off, heading for the Peak. He looked back only once, and Kye closed the distance between them, touching his muzzle to Balthazar’s own in a way that spoke of familiarity. And then his father called him, and Kye left. They were gone, but Balthazar knew he’d see them again. He and the moon were alone now.

A smile turned up the corners of his lips, and glimmered briefly in his sad, strange eyes. While he’d relished the company of the three Watchers, he’d missed the tranquillity he felt when he stood - a lone figure beneath the vast and night-lit sky.

By the time he reached the foot of the mountain, his pace had quickened and his eagerness and determination were clear in his movements. He wanted to find her before the sun rose, so that, when it finally did, the time that had passed since he’d last been here would have been worth it. For his coat was no longer dull as it had been, and his mane and tail were no longer so limp. He’d filled out a little, and no longer looked like the poor, starved creature she had met, not so long ago. He was getting better at living, and at not being cowardly and wretched and guilt-ridden.

And as he doggedly made his way up the mountainside he knew he shouldn’t be climbing, he tried not to think of the likelihood that someone else would find him before he found her. It wasn’t all that hard, actually, to ignore all else. Because her name was sitting on the tip of his tongue like it belonged there, and had never left, and all he wondered was whether it would taste sweet when he opened his mouth to set it free. And what it would feel like to hear her voice again. And if she had watched the moon grow strong.

And if she was waiting for him.

Knowing that he’d return.