Falls

He lifts his eyes to her. He noted the curve of her nostrils, the elegant sweep of her body. She was a ghost.

Trapped in-between.

But,

Gael tries to shake it from his head. He will not go into such darkness but despair clings to him like cobwebs. He could not bring himself to think about it. He refused to surrender the last vestiges of a past long spent. When she speaks he feels the pinprick of loss in his thin chest, the final arrows lodged into his withered flesh.

“They’re not my falls,” he said a bit too sharply. Gael shrinks back from her, shakes his head roughly. “I’m sorry.”

“But,” he pauses and snorts loudly. “My name is Gael.”

Her nearness was like fire, like feeling the burning sun against his flesh. The black stallion lifts his muzzle towards her, trying to apologize for his rather rude behavior. “I have forgotten my manners, Khayali. I have been alone for far too long.”