where have you gone my feather-light heart?
It had been a mistake to leave Luthien, even with the threat of the war. In the chaos of battle, the worst thing that could befall the blind mare was death. Right now, that seemed a kinder fate to her than…
This. To be parted from her mother. To have her son’s heart drawn from her. To have been deceived by the beast that had violated her, kept by him like a trophy of his despicable conquests. To be stalked by wolves, who drove her into the presence of stranger. To have been pressured into allowing him to mount her, for fear that he would leave her in the dark to a grisly fate.
More than anything, Echo was afraid of dying alone.
With the whole of her heart, she longed to hear Rowena’s voice.
As the mare paced along the shoreline of the Crossing – the only stretch of it that was familiar to her, she bellowed her rage and anguish to the sky. Life was so cruel. Where there any souls out there, other than her parents, who would show her kindness because it was the right thing to do? Or was she destined for a life of being taken advantage of?
No.
“NO!”
Never again.
And even as her scream of defiance still rang across the gentle rolling hills of sand of the beach, the blind bay mare plunged into the waves, ignorant to the cry of yet another stranger, who, despite the high pitch of voice dripping with concern, was unmistakably
stallion.
- - - - - - - - -
Of course he followed her into the tempestuous sea.
“Get away from me!” Echo snarled over one shoulder, determined not to let it show just how exhausted she was. Anger boiled in her blood. It was making it impossible for her to concentrate on determining the right direction to swim. If only she had insisted on her latest exploiter to see her safely to the Ridge, instead of just helping her make the swim from Tinuvel and navigating to the southern coast of the Crossing.
Better yet, she should have had him seek out her mother.
But no, that wouldn’t have worked. The brute hadn’t given his name, but Echo had spent long enough in his presence to know he was messenger boy to no-one. And he was no fool, either. Rowena would’ve torn him to pieces, once she realised what he’d done.
Shame, she burned with shame.
“Why are you swimming like that?”
Echo whirled about and snapped at the air, too tired to retort with words, too dismayed at the idiocy of this particularly persistent stallion. The sooner she got to the Ridge, the better. Once Rowena ran him off, there would be no coming back.
“Are you trying to get to the green island?”
Despite herself, despite not wanting to engage with the stranger unnecessarily, Echo realised she was helpless in the water without a guide, and so she gasped a frantic yes and nearly got a mouthful of seawater for her effort.
“Here, let me…”
And the bay mare felt her whole body tense as the stallion drew nearer, and she recoiled as his muzzle brushed her cheek. At last, he seemed to understand his senseless questions would remain unanswered, and what little remained of their swim was made in silence.
Despite her fatigue, however, Echo had strength and will enough to send the male skittering away from her through the shallows with a squeal, setting her teeth to his neck as soon as her hooves touched sand. And drawing in a ragged breath, she let loose a desperate call.
“Why did you hurt me? I was only trying to help you.”
Echo pinned her ears and lowered her head, unaffected by the wounded tone of the stallion’s voice. She was no fool, and had been deceived before. Life certainly liked reminding her just how vulnerable she was.
As if she could ever forget.
And so, just as she had earlier when she recklessly entered the ocean, she made her stand, refusing to back down or give up.
“If you touch me again, I’ll make you bleed.” The threat was issued with a savage hiss, and she steadied the trembling in her legs.
Unbeknownst to her, the stallion who’d trailed after her from the Crossing made no attempt to hide the trembling in his legs. He didn’t know how to, or comprehend the reasons why one might pretend to be anything except what they were. He didn’t know that her threat was just a threat. From where he stood, it was he who was the vulnerable one, for he was so much smaller and frailer and softer than the fierce creature before him.
And perhaps no-one would ever quite understand that he, too, had suffered greatly at the hands of a stallion in vastly different ways. The tragedy with Icarus was that he was oblivious to the damage that’d been done to him. His scars would ever remain invisible, hidden in the depths of his mind, affecting his view of the world for always.
That is why the silver stallion stood before Echo, frozen in fear, shivering violently, heart racing in his chest, hardly able to catch his breath. What on earth had he gotten himself into? Daedalus had been right. The world was a dangerous place. He never should have left the caldera. An intense wave of homesickness and heartsickness washed over him, and he was helpless against it.
For the briefest of moments, he was blind like the mare, until he blinked, and the tears clouding his vision spilled down his cheeks to mingle with the salt water from the sea.