"when there are no words,
and everything hurts…"
Dalibor wandered aimlessly, inky mane and tail still dripping saltwater. He’d departed Luthien in a hurry, eager to distance himself from the war that was raging there, for conflict spoke to something dark inside him that he feared letting loose. Again. As it was, some good had come of his presence in the Forest. He’d run into a large chestnut mare with a young foal in tow, and had done what he could to see them to somewhere safer, and farther from the fighting. As with every interaction he had with others (aside one) his inability to speak burdened him with frustration, among other things, and even now, the bay sabino brute sought to dislodge these feelings from him. But inadequacy was not so easily gotten rid of, and served to irritate in a manner similar to the sea water that caused his coat to prickle in places as it dried.
Heaving a great sigh, Dalibor suddenly realised how
tired he was. The silent stallion shuffled a heavy hoof blanketed by tangled, wet feathering, and cast a furtive glance around. He’d taken a direct path to the Crossing from Luthien – at least he’d been as direct as the ocean currents had allowed – and was not all that surprised to see that no-one was about. It was early, still. The sky had been beginning to lighten along the horizon as he’d pulled himself ashore. But Dalibor was of the opinion that not many would be traipsing the largest, central island any time soon.
Many had descended upon Luthien, and if they knew what was good for them, those who chose not to fight would hole up safely in their homes, until the worst of this storm of wills had past. But Dalibor had nowhere to, no one to turn to. Except…. Dalibor came to a sudden halt, sucking in a shuddering breath, assaulted by a myriad of emotions that set him to trembling. How could he…
How could he have abandoned Dances With Wolves in the midst of all that chaos? He had to go back, he had to… But Dalibor could not move, his body betrayed him and rallied against the desires of his heart. Instincts always won out in the end, and a dark and devious thought tried to allay his rampant concerns. It was better this way, surely. After all, Dances had others with him. They could protect the bay tobiano in place of Dalibor. And they would not lose control, the way Dalibor did.
Without realising it, after some time of standing motionless, Dalibor somehow managed to fall into a light sleep. It was peaceful enough, surprisingly, free of both nightmares and dreams. The gentle hiss of the distant waterfalls proved to be soothing in a way. How long he dozed, Dalibor couldn’t be sure, but life had taught him to be alert always, and at a soft new sound, the solidly built bay brute was startled into wakefulness, ears turning back and muscles bunching beneath his skin in preparedness for fight or flight. A rough snort was issued as Dalibor stepped forwards, eyes narrowed as he caught a trace of a fresh scent on the air, seeking the one who was somewhere close by.