drag my teeth across your chest
to taste your beating heart

The other mare began to follow her. She moved easily across the steep, rocky ground, making Fishbone’s stiff, faltering steps look even more ungainly. As they climbed, the golden mare began to speak again. Bane, she introduced herself as, though the introduction left a few questions unanswered.

“Fishbone,” she replied bluntly, by way of her own introduction.

If this woman was a leader, then that suggested a herd lived on this mountain. If this woman was one of the leaders, then that suggested there were multiple leaders. This was a foreign concept to Fishbone.

“There are others?” she asked, turning her head to give Bane a questioning look. “What do you lead, exactly?”

They were making slow but steady progress in their climb. Fishbone’s arthritic gait was tempered by her single-minded determination, and she showed no signs of tiring. She could feel the air growing thinner and colder as they travelled further and further above sea level. It felt fresh and revitalising in her lungs, the slight dry burn of it in her throat almost enjoyable.

At Bane’s question, she gave a little huff through her nose, as if the answer were obvious.

“I want to see the view from up there – get the lay of the land, see where I am.”

FISHBONE
FISHBONE