pay heed the squall Posted on October 18, 2022 at 06:33:55 AM by charybdis
The Ridge, beloved as it was to Charybdis, liked to play tricks on her. A test of her devotion, perhaps, of her proclamation of steadfast loyalty. On this day, when her spirits were low, and she had considered giving up the search many would’ve given up on long ago, she passes by that which she sought without seeing, because the shadow there, standing between the trees, is on her blindside. Between the bowing leaves the pale mare slinks, murmuring to herself beneath her breath.
She is not ignorant of the rusling behind, the rush of movement. Her Ridge was so alive, and her Rivers would always run through it. But she hardly pays it any heed. The Rivers ever ran from her, and true predators were far more silent. If a trespasser were foolish enough to attack her in her own Place of Belonging, she would be swift to turn about and unleash her wrath. But no strike came, no pinch of teeth, or graze of flailing hoof glancing off the sharpness of her.
There was only a sudden stillness, and a voice she heard so often in that place between sleep and waking.
Faolain.
“Chary?”
The spectre-white mare froze, the heart inside her chest trembling. The scent was stronger now, but that could be a trick. The only thing that felt real in this moment, was the soft hiss of her name. “Yes,” she wheezed back, turning slowly, slowly, and slithering back through the leaves. “It’s me,” the half-blind creature whispered to the half-deaf one, tilting her head so she could better see, and Faolain could better hear. “And it’s you, it’s you.” Charybdis, though she longed to feel the warmth and solidity of the figure before her beneath tender, questioning lips, did not dare move.
“I knew, I knew someone would come back to me, and I ‘oped wit evert’ing I am it would be you. Faolain. Faolain.” She draws a great lungful of air in, heavy with the black mare’s scent, and murmurs hoarsely. “Please, stay wit’ me for… for as long as you can.”