09-10-2016, 02:16 PM
All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you…
- Richard Adams, Watership Down
“Stay.”
They look at her with wide, bright eyes. Then at each other. Expressions mirrored.
Mauve shakes her head, once and twice.
Gardenia shrugs.
They are like clinging, tumbling ghosts, only with soft, bright footsteps. They are the constancy of shadows.
She turns, just as slow, her brow furrowed.
They look at her, smiling and blissful, as if everything previous – their wild, wet and natural birth, their excursions in the snow and across streams; her instruction seconds earlier... – was dreamed-of fancy. “O-kay.” She sniffs, looking left and right. Really, she could use Woodrow right about now, to corral his impish daughters (they get this from him!; from his trickster god).
Mauve gurgles something and her sister chuckles, as they both smile slyly. They keep secrets from her this way, in their garbled twin-talk.
“W-What are you laughing at?” Longear smiles, vaguely, as if in on it.
“...right,” she is suddenly uncertain of herself, in every possible way, “...Gardenia, Mauve. My dears. I need you to just... Stay right here… okay? You can do that?” They nod, like ducks bobbing in water, together.
No.
A strange sound rings out, like a quack squeezed out a duck, and she shoots them a hard glance, and as she lurches forward she bellows the word,
“STAY!”
- Richard Adams, Watership Down
“Stay.”
They look at her with wide, bright eyes. Then at each other. Expressions mirrored.
—heads tilting.
—mouths ajar.
And then back at her.
Mauve shakes her head, once and twice.
Gardenia shrugs.
She can tell they do not understand. “Stay here... okay? I’ll be back in a hop, skip and a jump.” She turns, slowly, taking tentative steps as if dragged down by slow motion – as if pulling away from gravity, testing the make of their comprehension.
They are like clinging, tumbling ghosts, only with soft, bright footsteps. They are the constancy of shadows.
She turns, just as slow, her brow furrowed.
They look at her, smiling and blissful, as if everything previous – their wild, wet and natural birth, their excursions in the snow and across streams; her instruction seconds earlier... – was dreamed-of fancy. “O-kay.” She sniffs, looking left and right. Really, she could use Woodrow right about now, to corral his impish daughters (they get this from him!; from his trickster god).
Mauve gurgles something and her sister chuckles, as they both smile slyly. They keep secrets from her this way, in their garbled twin-talk.
“W-What are you laughing at?” Longear smiles, vaguely, as if in on it.
They stop. Eyes wide. Heads tilting. Mouths ajar. As if she has just said something utterly incomprehensible; as if she has trespassed in some way… as if offended.
“...right,” she is suddenly uncertain of herself, in every possible way, “...Gardenia, Mauve. My dears. I need you to just... Stay right here… okay? You can do that?” They nod, like ducks bobbing in water, together.
No.
No, they understand every word, don’t they... “Good.” She says finally, smiling, her nod a tad dubious. “...good.” She turns again, this time more firmly, quicker, marching away and towards the knot of horses arranging themselves on the starting line.
She needs this, the run. She misses it, but not like this. Like the other, with her, low down and masterfully nimble, powerful back legs propelling her to safety; she gives a mournful glance to the mountain; lonely and hard on the sky, somewhere her other half is stuck in limbo and she closes her eyes, feeling the weight of that guilt slump her shoulders…
They giggle and her eyes snap open, whipping her head around, “are you two serious?” They stop dead, Gardenia’s ears flattening to the sides, eyes like saucers as her head drops low. Mauve looks off to the right, squinting into the trees as if something positively perplexing has caught her eye. She mumbles something about it to herself, humming and hawing…
A strange sound rings out, like a quack squeezed out a duck, and she shoots them a hard glance, and as she lurches forward she bellows the word,
“STAY!”
“My heart has joined the Thousand,
for my friend stopped running today.”