She speaks even more softly than he does, her words hardly a whisper on the wind. It makes him lean in to hear her, quieting even his heart so that he doesn't miss a single syllable.
Forgotten, she says, as if anyone in the world should be able to forget a name so befitting the monochrome mare.
i have pasts inside me
"I won't forget it." The words he'd thought for himself tumble out of his lips, unrestrained and his velvety dark cheeks grow hot beneath their fur, his stomach churning uneasily. He envisioned himself like one of those strange little glass frogs that climbed the bromeliads in the forest, their tiny fluttering hearts visible for the eye to see. He imagined that if he let her any closer, she would see through him in the same way. See the ichor and disease writhing in his veins, see the shame he carried in his heart.
i did not bury properly
She spoke of ghosts and he thought of his parents, their scents long departed from Atlantis despite the way their imprint had never left. Their claws had torn furrows through the politics of the jungle, leaving each resident suspicious of another. Vanya's in particular, had ripped through the hearts of her boys, letting her poison seep in and burn them from the inside out.
some nights
It did not stop them from loving her.
i tear myself apart
But she'd taught Wulfric loving and hating were nearly the same thing.
just to heal again in the morning
"Not a ghost," he whispered, brow furrowed.
"More a... monster." A caricature of what a horse was supposed to be, a warning story to be delivered to children.
"I don't want to scare you."