black horse reaping;
Another day. Another sigh passes between his lips. Chapped, broken lips. Lips that have searched and found no water. He has spent too long looking. His eyes have grown tired, his feet sore from the miles traveled in vain.
He has taken to the falls. Homeless and ragged. The trees hug around him and the ever churning sound of the water brings him comfort. It drowns out the restlessness, the unease. He watches them come and go against the pools, each face a stranger to him.
But,
Then he watches this mare. He can smell her, sweet and ripe. He watches her come to the smaller sections. Her build, her color. A ghost, he thinks, finally a clue. A wisp of the mare he once knew to be his.
Gael watches, tiger eye. Onyx eye. Never blinking. When she notices him, her eyes sweeping against his, there is a notion to back away. He has intruded on her. A nymph who might turn into foam.
“
Sorry,” he said.
“
Sorry to bother you,” his voice is rough like stone and he slinks forward from his hiding place into the broader stretches of light. An inky brother to the shadows. “
I live amongst the falls and I have not seen your face before.”
gael