harrowed
Fear and confusion and that new, heavy sensation of being lost swirl through Harrowed’s mind and bones as he stands there on the bank of the impassable river. There is no progress towards a solution for himself when someone appears on the opposite bank. A stallion, who would look harmless if not for the strange aura around him – as though this jungle recognized him.
And this jungle shouldn’t be trusted. That should be a clear warning sign for this skeleton.
Still, he offers a solution and Harrowed jumps to it without hesitation because any path forward is better than lingering here in uncertainty. The cessation of the river’s wild current only encourages the young stallion who moves into the water. The calm surface reminds him of the lake in the Dale where he had grown up, playing in the waters with Evade. This is just the same as that – seeing if he can reach the opposite side, only with a higher chance of success this time.
So it seems, for a time.
Harrowed keeps his attention on the stranger on the bank, his determination inspiring each kick of his legs, and the desire to be whole and out of this forsaken place keeping him from realizing what is happening for too long.
That figure, the bank that promises relief, isn’t getting any closer.
Still he tries, because he won’t go back. He doesn’t even consider it – the ants are there! – and eventually his body wears out. The muscles he doesn’t really have tire and each stroke becomes heavy and difficult until his skeleton body is trembling from the effort and finally, finally, he cannot make another movement.
And he sinks. Fear swells through the exhaustion until Harrowed realizes he is not drowning. Well that’s something. So now there’s no fear and the exhaustion fills him up again. He settles on the bottom of the river, a cloud of grey silt rising around him.
It is difficult to tell whether he can’t move or if he just doesn’t want to. He could stay here, safe from the horrors that exist in the forest above, safe from whatever trick had been stretching this river out.
Harrowed stands still so long the silt settles around him again and some of it sticks to his bones.
It is so tempting to stay.
But…
Without even a clear thought, he begins to move. Later, maybe he’ll piece together these feelings. He’ll see this as the moment he decided there was more to do, more to live, if only he could survive this.
Right now he’s too exhausted to think, he just walks. Harrowed’s body is bone and then it is more. Driftwood and plants and even a fish carcass collect first inside his rib cage and then on top of his bones. Turning him back into an approximation of himself.
He continues to walk because he knows that is what he needs to do until something collides with his face. The final piece to the puzzle makes him too heavy — or perhaps weight has nothing to do with it and Harrowed is just doomed to drift in and through situations until he finally dies — and Harrowed sinks.
He sinks past the water and loses consciousness completely be the time his bone-and-wood-and-silt head slurps beneath the substrate. He sinks past where it should be possible to sink and further down down down.
Solid ground beneath his hooves jolts him awake and Harrowed finds that he is confined to a very small space. Barely enough room to turn around. He can feel his body again beneath and through the collection of stuff amassing on him, can feel a new wound on his shoulder, and this terrifies him. If his flesh can be restored that means it can be taken away again.
He cannot allow that. So he rages. Slams his body and hooves into the sides around him and he screams out the thundering anger and fear.
And this jungle shouldn’t be trusted. That should be a clear warning sign for this skeleton.
Still, he offers a solution and Harrowed jumps to it without hesitation because any path forward is better than lingering here in uncertainty. The cessation of the river’s wild current only encourages the young stallion who moves into the water. The calm surface reminds him of the lake in the Dale where he had grown up, playing in the waters with Evade. This is just the same as that – seeing if he can reach the opposite side, only with a higher chance of success this time.
So it seems, for a time.
Harrowed keeps his attention on the stranger on the bank, his determination inspiring each kick of his legs, and the desire to be whole and out of this forsaken place keeping him from realizing what is happening for too long.
That figure, the bank that promises relief, isn’t getting any closer.
Still he tries, because he won’t go back. He doesn’t even consider it – the ants are there! – and eventually his body wears out. The muscles he doesn’t really have tire and each stroke becomes heavy and difficult until his skeleton body is trembling from the effort and finally, finally, he cannot make another movement.
And he sinks. Fear swells through the exhaustion until Harrowed realizes he is not drowning. Well that’s something. So now there’s no fear and the exhaustion fills him up again. He settles on the bottom of the river, a cloud of grey silt rising around him.
It is difficult to tell whether he can’t move or if he just doesn’t want to. He could stay here, safe from the horrors that exist in the forest above, safe from whatever trick had been stretching this river out.
Harrowed stands still so long the silt settles around him again and some of it sticks to his bones.
It is so tempting to stay.
But…
Without even a clear thought, he begins to move. Later, maybe he’ll piece together these feelings. He’ll see this as the moment he decided there was more to do, more to live, if only he could survive this.
Right now he’s too exhausted to think, he just walks. Harrowed’s body is bone and then it is more. Driftwood and plants and even a fish carcass collect first inside his rib cage and then on top of his bones. Turning him back into an approximation of himself.
He continues to walk because he knows that is what he needs to do until something collides with his face. The final piece to the puzzle makes him too heavy — or perhaps weight has nothing to do with it and Harrowed is just doomed to drift in and through situations until he finally dies — and Harrowed sinks.
He sinks past the water and loses consciousness completely be the time his bone-and-wood-and-silt head slurps beneath the substrate. He sinks past where it should be possible to sink and further down down down.
Solid ground beneath his hooves jolts him awake and Harrowed finds that he is confined to a very small space. Barely enough room to turn around. He can feel his body again beneath and through the collection of stuff amassing on him, can feel a new wound on his shoulder, and this terrifies him. If his flesh can be restored that means it can be taken away again.
He cannot allow that. So he rages. Slams his body and hooves into the sides around him and he screams out the thundering anger and fear.
Scrambling offerings: Bodach, and carried: shadow camouflage, angel shifting, glowing