Meadow

winter had driven her across the islands. she had abandoned the peak some time ago, having waited for the return of her sestry, her sisters, long enough. if she was to winter alone, she would not do it on a mountain top. it took a great deal to sustain her, hours spent nibbling the coarse yellow tufts of grass that were sometimes exposed and other times buried beneath the snow. the towering mass of her body was lesser than it used to be. once she had prided herself on being robust, powerful…that old pride was buried deep now, hidden behind the angles of her hips, the gauntness of her shoulder. she wandered between the common, the falls, and occasionally the meadow, eating what she could find and drinking when she came across a stream flowing quickly enough to resist the cover of ice. she never thought of what her matka would say now. she tried not to think of anything at all.

of all the places she wandered, she came to the meadow the least often. while it seemed the most sensible place to find forage this time of year she desperately avoided it and the memories that flooded back each time she stepped foot in the crisp grass of the round clearing. a storm drove her from the commons that day, the wind buffeting the shore, sending violent sprays of icy saltwater and making the short stubble of brown grass even less appealing than usual. she had planned to head straight to the small meadows that skirted the falls, but something stopped her at the edge of a larger clearing. she gazed across the expanse, her dark chocolate eyes always searching. a glutton for punishment.

silencing the voice in her head that told her otočit se, otočit se, turn back, she willed her body forward. in typical Božena fashion she would face her misery headlong. abandoning the trail in that traced a path toward the center of the meadow she skirted along the trees instead, testing herself, daring her mind to conjure the memory of that morning. she was surprised when her mind did one better, hoof prints appearing suddenly before her, as they had then. šílenství. insanity. perhaps this winter would be her last.

she could do nothing but follow powerlessly, pulled as if by a magnet, to the one place on the islands she never wanted to see again. her hooves slowed as she approached and she shook her head as the scent of another body touched her nostrils. each breath was agony. it wasn’t possible. to není možné. the words ring in her ears. to není možné.

she stands at the edge of the treeline, not wanting to look, she doesn’t believe she can trust her senses at this point anyway. her voice is a whisper.

Nebudu podveden. Nic nevěřím. mé oči mě oklamají. vůně na vzduchu mě oklamá. Jsem na tomhle místě sám.