The bay gave his name - a sure sign that he was mortal, and not one of Spirit’s many far-reaching arms - but then he called himself protector of these dunes. And sole protector! The concept of one person ruling over all others was utterly foreign to her - back home, the community shared responsibilities. The Council, a group of experienced elders and conduits of Spirit, made pivotal decisions, yes, but for the most part, things were decided as a group. You knew your place within the group, but like threads in a tapestry you came together for the benefit of all. At home, to branch off on one’s own was to forsake the path laid out for you. It was a slap in the face of all Spirit had given you - safety, security, companionship. It was prideful to the point of recklessness.
It was a death wish.
She didn’t understand, then, why this Gabbar seemed to pride himself on his power. Even more, he seemed to enjoy the godlessness of the terrain, and Firouzeh merely glanced over the wide expanse of sand in silence in response to his comments about the beauty of it all. If he read her appalled silence as agreement, it was his choice. She had still yet to see any sign of Spirit, so she reserved her judgment for the moment, but she would be a liar if she didn’t acknowledge to herself the feelings of fear and uncertainty creeping up from her stomach like vines.
Instead, she followed.
Firouzeh, too, could smell the oasis before they came upon it. As Spirit’s familiar aroma became stronger, she became more animated, eyes alert and ears perked forward. She was ready to see the Holy lands. She was ready to be back in Spirit’s embrace, to be welcomed into Its most blessed of places. It had already been too long.
She was not prepared for disappointment. This time, the mare could not hide the dismay from showing in her delicate features. She came to a stop at the edge of the grass, standing knock-kneed and refusing to follow Gabbar as he went to the small puddle he called a water source and turned to face her. He beckoned in his deep voice for her to drink, and here she felt yet more conflict - was this a setup after all? She could smell Spirit in the grass at her hooves, in the small trees and shrubs dotting the water’s edge… but this was not the lush paradise she had been promised. This was not the endless expanse of impenetrable vegetation. There wasn’t so much as a thicket. How could this be it? And if she were to drink from this pool, would Spirit consider it a sin?
Her throat burned with thirst. Her head still throbbed, though the bleeding had stopped, and despite her instincts screaming at her to resist, she wanted nothing more than to listen to Gabbar and just have one drink from the damn pool. If she could restore her energy, she would be better prepared to search every last inch of this place for more signs of the waterfalls she sought - and to leave this island for another should she come up empty-handed. Perhaps this was a gift from Spirit, a sign that she was on the right track. After a few moments, Firouzeh’s body won over, and she stepped carefully up to the water’s edge and slaked her thirst.
She was cautious to only take what she absolutely needed. When Gabbar glanced at her again, she’d been staring directly at him for several minutes, alternately awaiting a delayed punishment for drinking and trying to figure out the puzzle of him. His questions about her injuries only helped to confuse her further. Her ears twitched nervously atop her poll. How could he not know? He was Blessed - everything about him, from the curve of his skull to the carriage of his silken black tail, told her as much. He of all souls would know how she had gotten those wounds. It confounded her that he would ask such an obvious question.
“I - what?” Firouzeh could not keep the bewilderment from her voice. “Spirit-colt, have you already forgotten your own ascension?”
There was only one way to get here. That she was sure of.
“It was time for me to die.” She said it with the same matter-of-fact tone as if she were describing the weather. That she even had to remind him of the sole way to gain entry to Heaven was deeply, troublingly unsettling. How could he not remember?
The wounds on her head and her throat pulsed in time with her heartbeat. Images of swirling water, of bodies surrounding her, of Nekane and Ratan and so many others, flooded her mind.
She would never forget.