m e n k h e t

in the wake of her tragedy she had started to become something new. the loss of her children, of her son most recently, was a catalyst. it ripped through her emotionally, tearing apart the structure of her life and rebuilding it into something entirely new. her youth was gone. she had lost two children. no one could survive that and still feel young. all of her softness had started to fade. all her gentleness, her innate kindness, her pleasure in life, had been stifled by this awful blow life had dealt her. like a star, untethered from its constellation, she careened out into the universe alone and uprooted. it was a short time after this, having burned through some of her grief in a hot agonizing blaze, that she decided to make a different life for herself. this life, she found waiting for her in the forest.

her body had begun to change, the muscles in her stomach tightening and hardening back into their usual form, the swollen bag of milk waiting to be nursed from eventually receding, and her body gaining strength and health from the lush grass. these traces of motherhood faded and soon, with vigorous activity and improved diet, she became strong. she had always been “desert tough” with hardy black hooves, lean and compact body, and large unyielding bones, but now she became harder, stronger, and much much fiercer.

she had snuck into the forest in the quiet of dusk, slipping like an old worshipper into a silent church up to the altar, just to see how it felt. the closeness of the trees, the chatter of water moving over rocks from deep cold springs, the chilled damp breath of air that seemed to lurk beneath the canopy, was her own dark oasis. between the still green meadows, the shadows that filtered though the trees, the deep ravines and rock shelves…. she found a place to exist.

it was eerily quiet usually. though she had not been its master long, she poured her soul into her new home, absorbing and learning it as keenly as she knew how to. quiet animals lurked, though usually out of sight. the brush of a flank on a low branch, the clicking of tiny nails up a tree…most of her companions were deer, squirrels…making their tiny homes with no regard to her presence. she was used to the murmur of owls in the night, the chatter or chipmunks and squirrels hurrying about…but it was a different sound that drew her out now. the pounding of hooves on mossy ground. her ground.

she held a high vantage point, on a rocky outcrop at the top of a ravine. small twisted pines grew here…like crowns on the rock with their sparse needles and hunched limbs. below her, whipping through the trees with childish abandon, she could see the intruder. her presence was no surprise…she had heard the racket of thumping hooves on the forest floor a few times now but this was the first time she could see the creature with her own eyes tearing recklessly through her home. her nose lifted to the breeze and she breathed deeply, testing the air for the musk of stallion. she was relieved when she found none. it was as she had guessed…just a young mare, though she was great in size, running like a petulant child through a place that she didn’t not belong to. for a while menkhet thought of chasing after her. she, after all, was in charge of protecting this land she had claimed. what was the use though? clearly this filly knew she was in claimed territory. she made no effort to hide herself, parading through the forest whenever it suited her. no, surely the best way to handle this was to say nothing at all. let her stay. perhaps she would be useful at some point. if the girl wanted attention that badly, she would have to declare herself, to call menkhet out personally.

mare : 5 : sooty buckskin : arabian mutt : 15.2 : kafkaesque
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