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for ashes we are Posted on April 11, 2020 at 06:07:42 PM by Valka
VaLkA
mare / four / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh
As their kind, their gods were eternally at war.
This was but one reason the children of Kresnik thought nothing of the shudders that traveled down the earth's spine. They had returned to the sacred mountain in the darkness of the new moon, and Jutrobog's slitted eye gazed down upon the herd of horses now as they trickled into the clearing. It was impossible to distinguish one individual from another; by the dark of night, all coats were grey, and one stocky figure appeared much like any other. Even so, there was no mistaking the king when he arrived, surrounded by his phalanx of polenitsa. The deference the herd showed to the stallion was eclipsed only by that which they showed for their gods.
Marching in sync at her monarch's left side, Valka was certain that Kresnik was watching them too.
Though her body did not stir as the king ascended the altar to give his speech, the bronze mare's mind did wander, strive though she might to focus on Radjek's words. A vague disquiet began to prickle beneath her skin, and the mountain's shadow seemed to press down on her as if it'd suddenly gained substance - squeezing the air from her lungs, smothering her. A restless shifting of weight from one side to the other broke her inert stance for only the breadth of a moment, but it was enough to earn her a stern glance from one of her elders, and Valka fell still again. If only she might have quashed the strange sense of foreboding as easily.
Another tremor rocked the earth, this one more violent than those that had preceded it. The young mare was not the only one to move now, though she was alone in turning her gaze to the god's mountain. It was this small subconscious gesture that bought Valka those precious few moments - and her life. She was the first to see the fires of Kresnik's forge spewing forth from the mountain, the first to regain command of her fear-frozen limbs. Likewise was the Yakut mare spared by her recent induction into the polenitsa's ranks. Had she been one of the veterans, one of the more devout, Valka would have remained at her leader's side and perished.
Instead, she fled from the valley as quickly as if Stribog had granted her wings... and lived.
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The devastation had left nothing, and no one - save for the solitary mare. Valka struggled to understand as she left her ravaged homeland behind, unable to grasp why the gods should rescind their favor from her people so suddenly. It was only when she reached the seemingly-impassable barrier of the sea that the likeliest truth occurred to the stout chestnut:
Her people's gods - her gods - were surely dead.
Strangely enough, it was this knowledge that gave Valka the strength she needed to attempt the unimaginable. For everyone knew that the world ended at the Great Waters, and those who were swept away by them would fall off its edge. Perhaps the russet warrioress believed that she would drown and welcomed the possibility of rejoining her loved ones in Nyja's realm. Or perhaps the bounds of her beliefs had already been pushed so far that she could no longer be certain of any truth she had known. Either way, Valka plunged into the sea and swam in the direction of the rising sun.
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By the time that she arrived on the first isle's shore, the Yakut knew that nothing she had understood could be counted on. In the face of such a crushing truth, many might have collapsed and wept, or raged futilely. Valka did neither, but simply continued inland, keeping both her eyes and her mind open. The wind had already borne its tidings to her, and she knew what she would find when she arrived at the place her motion finally ceased - a gathering of those who were both her kind...and yet not.
In the time it took the sun to begin its descent, Valka had learned much and more. Here was a chaotic place, a godless place - and yet, there was a purpose to be found beneath the pandemonium. In her mind, the polenitsa named it the Crossroads - for many came and went, but few seemed to remain for long. In fact, the fiery-toned mare suspected that she had only been permitted to linger for so long because her diminutive figure had not drawn notice yet.
Though there was a time that Valka may have balked at the loss of her free will - at having her destiny chosen for her - this view had long since faded. She might not have known why, but the Yakut was certain that her survival had been the will of the gods - had been determined, perhaps, in their final acts. In a similar manner, the spirits of Valka's gods had led her here to this place, which led her to reason that there must be some cause for her coming here.