It had been some time since Jetta had last seen the firey red mare she looked up to so unconditionally, and much had changed. The filly had shot up in height and filled out, her mane and tail grown into silky banners, and her countenance had become calmer and more self-assured. Rarely now did she rush across the stony cliffs and wander to her heart’s desire, chasing birds and butterflies and entertaining herself with made-up stories; instead, most days, Jetta lingered near her mother, keeping Inka company as she quietly fretted over Het Vuur and Sterre - who rarely graced them with their presence - as well as little Adelheid, Jetta’s young sister, as she spent a good deal of time off who-knew-where exploring their home with her friend Taika.
She was growing up, and in more ways than her mother knew.
It had started early one morning in the weeks past, as she had stirred abruptly into wakefulness following the most vivid of dreams. As her bright blue eyes fluttered open, Jetta had been disturbed to see that the visions of her subconscious mind had followed her into wakefulness, and pranced right there in the stark light of reality. One blink, and they had gone, but a fog had clung, cloying and disorientating, to her mind in the days following, leaving her tired and ill-tempered. Once enough time had passed, Jetta was able to convince herself that she had been imagining things, but in her gut she still recalled just how real it had felt, looking at those images brought to life before her.
Nothing of the sort had occured since then, save a few times she had heard her mother speaking to her, only to turn and find that the mare was not anywhere near her. I am not getting enough sleep, she’d decided, and began making an effort in the days following to close her eyes at night earlier than usual, which seemed to stave off any recurrences of these strange experiences.
During this time, Jetta had begun to find a sense of isolation creeping into her mind. With her mother distracted, her grandparents aloof, and her sister finding less time for her, the filly spent days at a time at a loss of what to do with herself. Occasionally she thought of Macabre; the chestnut had disappeared some time ago, presumably to start a new life somewhere. Jetta had tried not to take it personally that the mare had left without so much as a goodbye, knowing Macabre had always been something of an introvert, but still she keenly felt the mare’s absence, having never bonded with any of the other Vulcans in the same way.
Today it was overcast, to match her mood, and soon a fine drizzle began to cascade down, bringing with it a wall of fog that obscured their view. Yet as Jetta and her mother crowded beneath the boughs of an ancient tree to shelter from the miserable weather, a restlessness begun to churn within her like cool fire in her veins. Eventually she excused herself from her mother’s grooming with a brief “I’ll be back”, and set out into the mist to exercise the unquiet from her limbs.
She wandered without purpose, her hooves clip-clopping across stone and squelching in damp grass as her eyes glued themselves to the ground to watch her footing; thus it was that when the chestnut mare appeared through the dismal wall of grey, Jetta did not spot her until she had nearly walked straight into her.
“Oh!” she exclaimed as she pulled her head up and scuttled backward to avoid the collision. “I’m so sorry - Macabre?” Her pale face slackened in surprise and then almost immediately brightened in a wide smile. She was so tall now, however, that she had to look down to meet the older mare’s eyes; it was an odd sensation, considering she had once declared she never wanted to grow bigger than her adult friend.
Briefly, she considered the idea that Macabre might be another vision - for seeing her now was almost too good to be true - and her gut wrenched with dread.
J E T T A
friesian mix; EE Aa nSpl; 1.5 yrs; 16’1 wfg |