Blank. Utter and sheer blankets of nothingness blind me, the quaint scent of honeysuckle and mint on the air, it draws me in like some blossoming rose, enticed by the sun and promise of water, but my mind, it does not compute any of it. I had been wandering, my body as still as a corpse, half in the shadows, watching, waiting. I was unsure what, something inside of me was beating, thundering inside of a cage and it slowed, dulled right down to a minimal thud, thud, thud. It is that beating that I hear then, on the air current, it brings scent to me, wisps of sweat, of pain.
Pain.
My shadowy pelt still bore the deep burgundy stains of once dried blood, my silvery tresses still matted with crimson. Blood. Pain. I had felt it, somewhere, deep within my bones, stretching over my muscles with a delightful twinge. Pain, it was something that many could not take, but I, I stood perfectly still, as my wounds attracted spring flies, the deep gashes over my side, my chest, they pulsated with fresh blood, fresh and delightfully sore. My eyes scanned the area, in the shadows, underneath the spires of bark, I saw all. I saw them all scurrying around in their little lives. I had tried to mimic them, my legs limber, loose as they mocked their movements. But then the shadows pulled me back nine, where the safety was sure.
I hear the wails then, cold, it brings the bitter chill to my bones and it is somewhat familiar. Cries of pain, of utmost torture. My black ears lace against my crown, hidden within the creamy locks, knitting together with the matted and congealed blood that tainted me. My head turns, eyes capturing the sight. A mare, her weary movements suffer exhaustion, her eyes wide in both panic, in pain. My heart thuds, mimicking hers. Racing, threatening to explode from our chests. Break apart the tender white ones of ribs. My tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. Thirsty. Hungry. The feelings feel foreign, and I don't know what to do, but as the mare falls to her knees before me, her barrel heaving, swollen, I step out of the shadows, instinct, something strange and probing, pulls me from the safety of darkness.
Worn limbs propel me on, each movement mechanical in their action, one step, two step. Muscles arch and ache with every step, before I enter the fallen mare's safety zone. I lower my head, scarred muzzle, still slick with fresh blood from my nostrils, touches the earth. the mare is leaking, leaking life, leaking a soul. My ears twitch, flicker like wavering weeds in the wind, getting lost in the entangle of thorns, knotted mane. Deep within my, my heart thuds to the beat, the sharp crescendo of the pregnant mare. My teeth chew, tongue dampening my dry, course lips.
'Please. Somebody.' my tone is misplaced, strange. my ears flutter at the sound o my own voice. I hear her again, her pleading, her worried eyes. I scan her swollen frame, her bulging eyes, her fearful veins pumping stark against her flesh. Please, somebody.' my head shifts, craning up and my lips part, calling, calling for anyone, anything. My hoof gently paws at the earth, threads of grass and moist dirt caress my hoof as I insist. Watching with steady, oblivious eyes as the new life slips, failing to come out in one easy push. I step closer, my bloodied face lowering to the mare's neck, my course muzzle pressing against her skin -- it feels right, it feels like I feel every inch of her pain, throttling through me like knives, like bullets. I touch her, ever so gently.
'Please, somebody.' I say, again, the tone soft, feather-like, my eyes swelling with the threat of tears, my heart tearing into two. Being this close, feeling this strange, strange emotion, it pulls me under a wave of oblivion and I sink even further and further away. 'Gentle. Gentle.' child-like, naive, my tone soothes, like larks singing to their babes. but the darkness of something unseen settles just behind my eyes, forces daggers deeper into my blank mind. Gentle... Gentle...'
i lie inside myself for hours;
