Falls

It had been her father who told her there were places far, far from where she’d been home where the love of her goddess did not reach, nor did the influence of any of the others she had known. Those places had seemed to be ones which only existed in stories – ones she never once thought she herself would visit. Worse yet, the place which Avangeline had found herself to be seemed even more foreign and strange than the tales her father had told. The golden glow from her coat had vanished, her gaze lacked its gilded film, and no longer was she able to manifest little particles of light to trail her and keep her company. Thus far she hadn’t seen one horse with splendid wings like her mother and father had, nor did any others seem to possess some strength influenced by whichever god they pledged their lives to.

Avangeline had never been further from home and she had not a clue how she’d come to be here. If she knew the path to return to the valley where she was born, she’d have set out in a heartbeat. She did not like it here, she decided, and heaviness blanketed her heart with a little more weight each time the sun rose and she had not returned home. Yet she was resigned to her fate, lost, afraid that if she left this island she’d arrived on that she would only come across a worse fate than what found her here.

At least here was not so terribly bad, if not foreign. There seemed to be many various others that she could greet and converse with if she were ever lonely but, lucky for Avangeline, that was one problem she did not have. Her gaze swept to the agile, muscled body of her inky black companion, Al-Hattaal. He too, was new and far from home. She took comfort in this. Quite quickly she’d put it together that he was not from her homeland and elected not to ask him whether or not he’d lost some form of a special power. He was her only friend in this place (if she might be so lucky to consider him that) and so she practically clung to his companionship, never too far behind as they wandered together about the island. Avangeline feared if she asked too many strange questions he may elect to drive her away and refuse to allow her to accompany him any further.

Yet curiosity is a fickle thing and, that day, as they walked, she continuously glanced toward him and the questions burned on her tongue. Do they have wings and horns where you’re from? What is your god’s name? Do you walk with them? Do you fight in their honor against those who believe in a different god, or do you fight for borders and politics? Did you lose powers when you arrived here too? Each question brought her eyes sweeping to him and then away again, courage lost. Then, when she was on the cusp of asking something that might open the floodgates for such a conversation, Avangeline noticed Al-Hattaal was paying distinct attention to something.

Not something… someone. Avangeline’s eyes followed where he looked and she observed the mare as well. As Al-Hattaal began to slowly move forward, Avangeline did as well, though her interest in the mare was mainly intertwined with Al-Hattaal’s behavior toward her. They stopped suddenly rather than moving closer to her and Al-Hattaal whispered a word which Avangeline did not know. “Do you know her?” She asked, face pinched into a confused frown as her eyes darted from Al-Hattaal and back to the mare.