kreios
don't you tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash I should be used to summons by now.
The last had been far less ominous than this; it was the kind and deeply accented voice of my former queen, calling me home. This is something else entirely.
The copse of trees in the Forest in which I had been resting has faded somehow, and the murmur of voices (even the chatter of birds) has faded into dull silence. I step out into the sun – no, there is no sun, only less darkness – from beneath the trees. The bells are no longer easy to ignore, and so I follow, knowing only that moving forward is better than staying alone.
Perhaps I learned something in the wilds afterall.
I feel more conspicuous than usual, my bright coat almost gaudy in this dull grey world, but there is no one here to see me, no one to comment.
At least, there hadn’t been. AS I follow the sound of the bells, I begin to see movement at the corner of my eye. First one horse then another, all of us following the tolling of the bells. I pay no attention to where we go, only that it is forward, and so I do not truly see the others until after I have seen the lamb. I was there and then gone so quickly I am not at all sure I had seen it. I have no answer; not yet. Only after the lamb disappears do I truly look up at the faces of those gathered around me, wondering if they too had seen the small horned creature.
There is a black mare, a roan, and a small filly, who I step towards immediately out of instinct. She is too small to be here at the end of the world; she should not be alone. As I move forward I see a more familiar face, Lucrezia, who is already voicing her acceptance. No, I want to tell her, and the chestnut colt who speaks after her: No – you cannot accept the end. I barely hear the acquiescence of the others, torn between by need to be beside Lucrezia and shield the children – Weaver and Rhonen – from whatever it is they have so casually accepted.
I cannot let them go alone, and so while I want nothing more than to return to the bright – and lonely – Beqanna I had left behind, I tell that voice that “I accept.”
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