Falls

Cerosi’s default state of being seemed to be bad mood. She had been perpetually angry for days now; angry at herself, angry at her people, though even before that she had spent months feeling the constant bitterness of oppression. They were stupid, but she had been stupid for defying them, and now she was paying the price. She paced the edge of the water at a brisk, agitated trot, kicking up sand beneath her dark hooves, the waves racing up around her legs just to slide back into the sea a few moments later. Why should she stay? She had been exiled. They didn’t want her. She didn’t want them.

But this land was all she had known, and though she had no other choice but to move forward into the sea, she was terrified to leave.

No, she thought. No fear. She halted her pacing and glared out over the water. The day was beautiful and clear, and the sun shone from a cloudless sky to glint off the calm waves. This was the only chance she had. She didn’t know what was out there, but her chances of making it anywhere would be the best if she left now, during low tide, when the weather was favorable.

But she was still afraid.

Behind her, the tribe she had grown up in—her family, friends, the ones she’d fought beside the entirety of her short life, despite doing nothing to deserve such loyalty—waited. If she turned back to them, she would be killed. Outcasts were forced into the sea; it was the law, the way of things. She had seen it happen before. Cerosi had no choice but to swim, and she was running out of time, but she was still so very afraid, though she refused to admit it to herself. She had spent days being angry and unafraid to lash out at her oppressors. Exile had not been part of her plan, and now the gunmetal mare was abandoned, even by those few who had promised to rise up alongside her. She was alone.

The tribe was advancing. She could feel angry eyes burning holes into the back of her neck as she stared out over the sea. They moved slowly; usually outcasts died before making it into the ocean. Most of them fought, and were killed, and the whole endeavor generally took about an hour. It had only been about ten minutes since Cerosi was driven to the shore, and now they waited, expecting her to turn back so they could tear her apart.

Fuck them. Fear turned once again into burning, acidic rage. If she hadn’t stormed forward into the gentle waves out of spite towards her tribe, or out of the will to survive, she would have done so purely to quench the white hot fire in her belly. The water sprayed up around her legs as she charged, then shoulders, until it finally wrapped around her neck in a blissfully cool hug and her hooves lost contact with the sand.

Swim, or die.

—

She did not know how long it had been since she started. It was dark now, and Cerosi was exhausted, but she had spotted land an hour ago and now, finally, she was close enough to it that she could see the sand. It was incredibly difficult to keep going, but Cerosi was not a quitter, and she spitefully kicked her way toward the shore with steely resolve. What good would her escape have been if she were to just die before she made it anywhere?

As her hooves touched the soft sand of the island, Cerosi wished her old people could see her now. Yes, she was freezing, starving, and her head and tail dropped low as she pulled herself onto the cold snow-littered beach. But she was alive. They had failed to break her.

Dropping her knees to the sand, Cerosi gracefully collapsed. Her weight was no longer being supported by the water, and she was too exhausted to hold herself up longer than it was necessary to pull free from the ocean. There she stayed, shivering but immensely proud of her victory, until the grey light of dawn began to seep into the atmosphere, reminding her that this island was unfamiliar, and so likely held unfamiliar inhabitants. The gunmetal mare rose once again and moved on from the beach, her advance bold but alert, until she could hear running water and hastened to find its source.

Though she was still damp and bedraggled from the swim and from her salty, drying coat, Cerosi was beautiful. She was aware of this fact, and was often cocky about it, but she had no illusions of her beauty now as she loped to the edge of the freshwater pool into which the falls cascaded and greedily dove her velvet nose in. She drank deeply for a long time, front hooves plunged into the frigid water, until finally she felt satisfied enough to back into the snowy grass and survey her surroundings. She was alone, for now, and though she was incredibly hungry, the silver mare opted to groom herself while there was no one (she assumed) to watch her do so.

• CEROSI •