All days come from one day, that much you must know.
You cannot change what’s over, only where you go.
Two small figures approached the mountain just as the sun began to dip towards the horizon. The first, older and a little larger, moved with purpose – gaze lifted and fixed on the crest high above her, as if she were drawn towards it. And she was, very much so. Each breath was deep and full and it felt as though her skin prickled with electricity. The smaller, white-patched figure that sulked along behind her was a different story. When the first mare came to a halt, the younger one – still a child really, raised her head with effort, and seemed to slump as she struggled to take in the mountain. One saw it as magnificent, the other as daunting.
“Just look at it – I’ve seen mountains before, but never this close… Come, child. I want to find out what it feels like to see the world from so high. We must make good time if we want to reach the summit before the sun sets.” With an eager shake of her head, the bald-faced chestnut mare set off, and probably wouldn’t have noticed that her younger companion made no move to follow, had the girl not called out after her.
“It’s… A long way, though. I’m very tired. I don’t want to go up there.”
Pilgrim regarded the filly over one red shoulder, ears twisted back a little, as if straining towards the mountain. Focussing on what she wanted. “Then wait here until I return.” She blinked, her blue eyes already moving on from her daughter, soaking in as much of the environment as she could. There seemed to be no visible signs of strangers nearby, and the land was tranquil. Such peace made Pilgrim’s heart skip a beat with joy, and she was eager to gain much from her time here, however little she might have. “This land is a haven for ones like us. You will be safe.” She lingered a moment longer, and when the child said nothing else, the mare resumed her ascent.
Phantasmagoria meandered, and couldn’t help but seek out her mother’s figure every few minutes. She grew irritated with herself every time it did, because why should she care so much when her mother cared so little? But… It had been the first time that Pilgrim had counted Phantasmagoria as being like her. The overo filly found a somewhat sheltered area among the rocks that littered the base of the Peak, and settled, stewing over the chestnut’s words, and glancing around anxiously every time she thought she heard a noise.
-------
The journey to the top of the mountain had been slow-going, and had taken Pilgrim longer than she had expected. Her muscles burned with the exertion, and her coat was damp with sweat. Breath echoed in her chest, and her heart beat strong and steady, a quick, pounding rhythm. The mountainside was quiet, and several times she had let loose a small cry, alerting any resident mares of her presence. None had approached as of yet – perhaps they were further down on the other side of the mountain. Or yet higher still.
The small pony mutt pressed onwards, fighting the desire to turn and look out over the land. If she could just wait ‘til she reached the crown of the mountain… Pilgrim took care to plant each hoof firmly, already having slipped once in the scree lower down. Tired as the climb had made her, she moved with renewed energy, feeling that she was so close. The light was failing, and she wanted to reach the peak soon. Minutes passed, and again, the small mare began to flag. She stopped to catch her breath, eyes ever wandering, when, in her peripheral vision, she though she saw one of the boulders move. Alert, ready to scramble out of the way if indeed the large rock was beginning its tumble down the mountainside, she immediately relaxed, and stood in awe.
It was no great slab of stone, but a mare, one of the largest she had ever seen, who stood at ease here, so high above everything. “Greetings to you,” Pilgrim said, her breathing still a little uneven. It was cold up here, colder than she thought it would be. “I am Pilgrim, and long since have I admired this mountain from afar.” She might have said more, if she had been the overly-talkative sort, but she was not. Even though she was no longer climbing, her heartbeat was still a little fast, as was her breathing, and the pony mare took a moment to try and steady herself, but remained unwilling to close her eyes against the vast, rugged landscape.
“Pilgrim, it’s a long way
to find out who you are…”
|