He is disoriented and confused. The light hurt his eyes and made his head ache painfully. He leaps backwards, the shock of the sun’s light in his eyes and on his skin nearly causing him to fall. His pupils are like pinpricks and they try to readjust, but the reflexive instinct he should have had does not kick in. He is blind at this point, groaning in protest at the splitting pulse that begins in his eyes and splinters backwards into his skull. In attempts to soothe the pulsating throb in his head, he closes his eyes tightly, grunting as he staggers forward. His hooves, black and sharp as flint, seem unsure as they no longer click against smooth rock but find purchase easily onto the dirt that begins at the mouth of the cave. He decides to stop moving, his eyes seamlessly shut, drawing breaths in large gasps as his lungs try to inhale and exhale the thick air. He feels the sun’s light burning as it touches his skin mercilessly and he’s sure blisters are forming and bursting on his hide as he writhes painfully.
How long had it been since he had seen the light of day? How long had it been since he breathed in lungfuls of fresh air, felt the sun on his back, or the wind at his coat? How long had he called the twists and turns of his damp caves? Their dark and echoing walls call to him, the low howl of cold air hauntingly drawing him back inside, back into the depths…
Ten years, he reminds himself. Ten long years he’d been trapped in the chasm, where his eyes no longer attempted to see light but only were for seeing shadows. It was where he learned to listen to the faint drips of water splashing against smooth stone, where his survival relied on forgetting his sense of sight all together. It was where night and day were no longer marked time, and the only sound was that of hooves against the damp, wet stone.
He refuses to open his eyes. He staggers backwards a few steps, snorting confusedly as he adjusts to his surroundings. He feels the stoic, black stallion next to him – a somber anchor in his years of blindness. He feels a touch on his mottled blue shoulder, which was stained a shade darker with sweat. Without words he knew that he, too, was struggling as they attempt to leave what they’ve known for so long.
Unfortunately, a solid crack interrupts their struggle to reintroduce themselves into the world of night and day. He feels the ground beneath him shift and groan, and then – nothing.
When he awakes, his brilliant blue eyes open wildly. It is dark – but it was not the same dark he had grown accustomed to. This was not darkness – Balto has known true darkness of the deepest, pitch black and this certainly was not it. There was a hint of the lightest blue and silver, and even to this light he was squinting. He realizes slowly, that he is beneath a heavy full moon and thousands of stars. For a moment he remains still, breathing heavily, as he tries to figure out where he was. He was not standing up – he was laying on something. Something soft. He attempts to adjust his weight, feeling the softness that hugs his hips and shoulders, that gently caresses the sides of his ribs and neck. He snorts, as he understands that he did not remember the texture or smell of grass.
He wants to attempt to stand, but his body does not comply. He feels broken and bloody (that he was familiar with and could recognize – the caves were not gentle hosts). His body is crisp with dried sweat and the deep burgundy of blood. He tries to lift his head but he is too weak. Too vulnerable, he thinks to himself. His heart quickens at the thought, eyes rolling. As he glances around wildly, he realizes that he is lying beneath a forest.
A forest? He snorts and once again attempts to stand. He fails, but is able to draw his legs beneath him. He rests his chin on his foreleg, eyes closed tightly as he catches his breath. The air was so…different. It wasn’t stale – it was full of scents and life. It felt rich on his tongue as he gasps, memories of his life before the caverns took him playing in his mind. A forest. How poetic…
He does not know how he’s come to be here. He did not know where Faulkor was. Even in the darkness, he could tell that the black stallion was not near him (years together in tunnels and caves led to a certain intuition about each other).
Balto continues to try to steady his breath, eyes remaining shut as he debates his next move.
b a l t o
@[Faulkor]