he giveth and he taketh away; round i - closed, tersias in.

[Hermia's Gold]

Hermia's Gold


She was just young. A whole two years experience to claim to the world. Yet she felt old. Aged far beyond simply two whole years. The great escape from human imprisonment, then centuries as a ruling monarch, and then waking up to fire and feeling like nothing was real. Was it centuries? Just a dream Hermia..... Just a dream. But why does it feel so real?
The dream world felt more real then reality.
Now this chaos.
Everyone seemed to have their own opinion about what to do next.

“Rebuild here!”
“Move on, find better.”
“Wait for survivors! Someone else has to have made it out alive!”
She wasn’t opinionated about anything.
I just got here.
The land burning below didn’t hold strong emotion. It wasn’t home. It wasn't a life she had been born into or a life that she had even began to build. It was a life she had began to dream about. Wide open spaces to carry her away on adventures. Meeting of new horses. Touch. Most of all she had begun to dream of the simple act of touching other living beings. Something that had been forbidden to her all those years.
“You start off with your mother and other mothers in a field with other babies. Everything is perfect. Everything has four walls. Then they come and tear you apart and leave you alone with one other filly. Then one day she is still on the ground. Whatever makes up a horse suddenly gone leaving more a tree log then a foal behind. Never again are you allowed into four walls with another again. Humans call the shots. Put you outside. Bring you inside. You cant see other horses but you can never touch them.”
She whispered in the dark of the night to a shadow lacking any white markings who said his name was Black Bear. He was a small, sporty type. Anything but a bear appearance, more like a compact cat. Muscle mass was firm but no one would call him a body builder. He seemed worried about everything, like he expected the devil himself was after him.The faintest shift in the shadow had him whirling about like a scared teenage girl, but he was kind with a heart of gold that made her drawn to him like a moth to a light. Sometimes his burning fear causing more panic to them both out weighed the benefit of the security of his kindness.
If only he wasn’t so on edge.
He mourned a family, a herd of mares, of foals. His security blanket ripped away from him. He was completely alone surrounded by strangers in a strange environment. She couldn’t hold it against him for being paranoid, but her patience with every spook was growing thin. He wasn’t consolable.
She never had felt the same sense of belonging. Her world before and the short time at beqanna had felt distant. Not hers. It was dreams and fantasies she mourned. Certainly not anything solid. There was one creature down there she mourned but she did not know him. Didn’t even understand the world he was from. The endless free space. The soft sands. The endless blue of ocean and sky. Yet, still, there was a sorrow in her heart for what could have been. Young mind running away with thoughts of a handsome black knight and his strength and steadiness. A romance that could have been. A family that could have been. Fillies and colts running through her mind of her dreams creation. Her children.
They aren’t real!
Yet still she felt more like a mother that could no longer see or touch her children again, then a two year old who had only experienced the brief love of her mother. Every small cell of her body longing for something that was no longer real. A great black stallion. Gone. A beautiful child-stallion: Hamlet. Gone. White sandy beaches. Gone. Endless sky. Gone.
-
No one truly slept that first night. If someone was mentally sound or detached enough from the fire to sleep, some, who certainly were not, sure ensured no one else would sleep. They wailed like their guts were hanging from their bodies. A sort of noise that pierced into the strongest of minds and demanded to be heard. It churned and twisted in Hermia’s guts and made her vomit silently in the night. The pure exhaustion of having to feel someone else’s emotion taking its toll.
Some just sobbed in dark little corners, pressed firmly against tree and ground as if they hoped they would just melt into the bark and dirt. Seeming to pray they joined the earth before it took them as well. Wanting to quietly disappear before the sun rose to claim the legitimacy of the passing event. Little ghosts hoping to burn away into ashes with lost loves but too clung to life to take those last steps away from living.
Some were just too exhausted. They were listless. Not cowering away from the flames though nostrils flared with anxiety and eyes darted from burning valley, to drama queens, to the black blanket of unknown forest.
Some were injured. Tejango’s right eye swollen shut where burning branches had slashed out. Vie held a swollen left hind foot off the ground. It resembled more like a club then a leg. Albert sported bone bruising to the left front. Chiara laid flat out on the ground, majority of her body covered in still boiling burns, her breathing fast and labored. She wouldn’t make it through the night. Ohla’s front shoulder flesh dangled to the ground lamely while blood flowed down in rivers onto the ground pooling around hoof. Her own stubborn will keeping her from collapse.
Bellinda, in contrast, stood out on the open, accepting she wouldn’t catch a glimpse of sleep through the drama of others and watched the burn. She watched the flames as if she had created it, not fearing it, not loathing it, not mourning or even happy. It just was. She just was. She stood out in contrast to the rest. A lone white figure at ease and even peace admiring the view. Appreciating the power of life. Understanding the make of the world.
Maybe she had once lived with the gods.
It was from this white figure Hermia’s Gold drew strength from to make it through the night. She huddled against Black Bear, whispering gentle stories back and forth but the waveless energy of Bellinda kept her from falling completely into the hysteria of the night.
-
Morning brought forward a whole new set of characters.
Chiara lay dead on the ground, her burns having consumed her soul all but silently.
Tink, who had tried to soothe this mare’s pain had broken through the last bit of sanity and now stood at the edge of clearing swinging head back and forth muttering nothing coherent.
Ohla at the first sight of light had finally collapsed to the ground and now lay without care in her puddle of blood. Though she still managed to stay slightly up, legs tucked neatly under her and head bobbling in struggle to stay conscious.
Serenity, who had been the loudest, down right craziest of them all had gone silent looking out at the burnt land.
Bellinda had finally turned toward the herd, calculating.
The light had brought silence. The light had brought a sense of calm. No longer was there shadows to jump at. No longer was a big black mountain looming above and below. It was just a bunch of shocked horses in the day light that in the security of the day and under the exhaustion of the night breathed a moment’s of relief. Thus Black Bear and Hermia’s Gold finally slept. Not a deep sleep, but a sleep then jolted one awake every few moments thinking they were late for a meeting, or that dragon was upon them again raging angrily. It left them anything but rested. Emotionally no one could brag stability as much as they might believe they were. Many others had slept, or at least dozed. A false sense of security blanketing over them, as if the sun was on their side and standing at guard. The body demanded to be heard, demanded to be given the nutrients it needed, and what everyone needed was sleep. Sleep allowed the brain to process what the mind and soul could not. Maybe it would bring forth level minded creatures.
Or maybe not.
“DEATH! DEATH EVERYWHERE!”
Ohla as if on cue jerk in her last battle for death. Legs stiff out, eyes rolled back into her skull, compulsions in argument to her body’s failure. It felt like a century passed before she lay still once more. Whoever said death was peaceful was a liar. Hermia stared blankly at empty body. The second mare to die within the small group.
“We need to go back.”
Demanded Serenity, the fiery red head who had kept the herd awake all night, from out of the shadows. The lose of another life proving that no where was safe. It wasn’t safe here. It wasn’t safe below. If they were alive here, and unsafe, then someone had to be alive down there as well.
“No. There will still be hot spots. The ground and forest will be unstable. You could fall through, or something could fall on you. We need to worry about establishing our selves. Find food, water, get to know the land better. We aren’t the only animals to make an escape. Soon everyone will be hungry.”
Bellinda responded cooly without menace, resembling more of a mother answering the thousandth question of her filly.
“We can’t be the only ones to make it out alive! You know it yourself! There are caves! Possibilities! We can’t just forget about them!”
Hysteria clear in her voice.
“We can’t take the risk of losing even one of you. We have already lost two. Our best chances are in numbers, once we have a better understanding of where we are we can try to find lost loves.”
“Oh, listen everybody. The queen of Beqanna.”
Piped in Tejango.
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
Screamed Tink as she rushed at Tejango. He backing a pace off caught off guard by the outburst.
“I’m trying to protect you.”
Snapped Bellinda with annoyance, eyeing Tink’s outburst.
“SHUT UP! SHUT UP!”
She lunged at Bellinda who only blinked in response.
“I don’t need protecting! I’ve been protecting my self all these years. Some stranger isn’t about to start calling the shots in my life!”
Shot back Serenity moving in beside Tejango.
“How are two of  you going to bring back any survivors?”
“I’ll go.”
Came a voice from outside the circle. Rupert, a tall muscular blood bay. Tink now moved slightly to the side, swaying her head back and forth, but now a clear pattern in her chant.
“Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up.”
“Four of us! sounds like a party!”
Came from an elegant dappled arab mare, Prim, who broke away from staring at Tink in bewilderment to slide against Rupert like a flirting cat.
“Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up. Shut. Up.”
“Or a crowd.....”
Mumbled Serenity rolling her eyes for Tejango’s view.
“What was that?!”
The arab responded with an air of ignorance, playfulness and warning.
“Nothing.”
Grunted Serenity.
“Be nice.”
Mumbled Tejango as he began to snake down the mountain side after Rupert who had already started off like a solider with his mission.
“Before you get any ideas, Rupert is mine.”
The arab hissed at the mare.
“The only idea I have is finding my family.”
Growled Serenity before they disappeared.
“Some rescue group that is.”
Grumbled Black Bear in annoyance.
“They’ll figure it out. For now lets go find some water.”
Hermia nudged Black Bear in reassurance.
At least I hope they will.
Her throat was hoarse and dry from smoke inhalation. She peered at Bellinda seeking permission, who still was looking at the empty space the four had once occupied. Gently she nudged at Bellinda’s shoulder, who ruffled Hermia’s mane.
“Yes. Be careful I can’t lose you as well.”
A sadness was easy picked from her voice that Hermia felt a desire to ease, but instead she turned and continued off after Black Bear who had already began to lead the way out of the clearing, lost in his mind.
-
Two weeks passed. Bellinda with the help of Vie and Albert pushed the two bodies of Ohla and Chiara off the plateau to a rocky grave where animals had began picking away at their bodies. Flesh being ripped from flesh. Bones cracking under powerful jaws. Growls over a certain tasty piece. Fights occasionally breaking out over a leg, liver, heart. The noses of arguing predators provided little comfort to the band, but the silence that faded into the air was worse. A sign that only scraps were left to pick at.
“It is only a matter of time before they are finished with those two and come after us!”
Cracked Vie tearfully.
“The others still haven’t returned we can’t leave until they have come back.”
Grumbled Black Bear. He had grown more and more angry over the days. The longer the four were away the more unrealistic of ever being reunited with his family became. Without faith he was crumbling into a shadow of a creature. At first he had spoken at all hours with Hermia of his family. Something about tragedy pulling people together allowed memories hard to even think about easy to share. Maybe it was the knowledge that soon all they were going to be were memories thus forcing him to keep them alive through others. He, quickly after the sixth day drew into himself. At first it started with the others. Vie and Albert through their injuries having come together were the first to be cut out of his circle. Bellinda, who was the first to point out that it might be best to start to accept loved ones as dead was the scape goat. Any suggestion she held he played devils advocate to.  Hermia’s Gold held his attention til the tenth day, where one day he finally turned on her.
“JUST KEEP YOUR DISTANCE OK?! YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND. YOU HAVE NO ONE TO MOURN OVER! YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS LIKE TO LOSE ANY THING OUTSIDE OF YOUR DELUSIONAL DREAMS!”
Dumbstruck, she had only back away. His words cut into her like a Japanese blade, leaving a mark like an iceberg: little to the unseeing eye but a great crater under the surface. Losing a friend was one thing, but he had also ripped away all rights to feel the way she felt. It left her feeling broken and lost.
Maybe he is right. I don’t have a right to feel the way I do. I had no body. I can’t begin to understand how he feels.
Bellinda, thus, had taken Hermia under her care. Nudging her awake at dawn, leading her to the best skirts of grass, cooing her to sleep and listening to her fears, anxieties, stories of the nightmare that plagued her and bubbled over in the night.
“This is Beqanna love, if you feel your dreams were real, then they were real. They have impacted you, changed you into something new. No one can say what is real and what is not. Maybe we will all wake up tomorrow under the ocean breathing water instead of oxygen and some black fish will tell us this dream isn’t true. Don’t let someone tell you what you can and cannot feel. You are worthy of your emotions. Feel them.”
-
Another week passed now everyone was restless. Everyone, except Tink, who barely moved. Had barely moved over the past three weeks. Hermia had taken to herding the mare from place to place.
“Lets go get something to drink.”
She would whisper and prod her along to the creek then back to the others. Tink was lifeless. A functioning body, better put together then the rest who all sported some sort of burn or scar, but her life was gone from her.
Every man dies, not every man lives.
One certainly could understand this statement even regarding Tink. Her eyes were dull though seeing. Her movements were mechanical. She lived only because her heart still pumped blood.
In a complete contrast to Tink were Vie and Albert. Bodily they were broken, but the two chestnuts had become flirting love birds. If there was loved ones lost they did not show it. They encouraged each other, supported each other and brought light to the small group. Soft giggles in the evening. Love whispers in the night. Cheerleading during the day. A breathe of fresh air for everyone else.
“We need to move to higher ground.”
Interrupted Bellinda, Vie perking with satisfaction.
“No! We wait!”
Snarled Black Bear from his solitude.
“We have waited long enough. They are smart animals we will leave signs for them to follow but we are too in the open here. Cliff side is not where I want to be caught with my guard down.”
“I think it’s a perfect idea!”
Vie perked in merrily.
“We can’t just abandon them!”
Serenity flew in at that moment, looking worse for wear. Her coat was blotched with ashes and  bite marks like never scene before litter her flanks.
“We have to get out of here!”
Tink had drifted from Hermia’s side and now overlooked down into the abyss of beqanna.
“Witches. Witches. Witches. Burn the witches.”
“Where are the others?! Did you find anyone!? There were survivors weren’t there!?”
Black Bear lunged at Serenity, mad hope in his eyes.
In answer a screech from the smoking ruins.
“Oh there was survivors alright. You just stick around to meet them! I sure as hell am not!”
Rupert followed closely behind by Prim rushed past, blood dotting their entrance and exit as they flew beyond the group.
“RUN!”
Serenity smashed at the ground then followed after the two leaving the small herd blinking at their exit.
“What the hell was that.”
A be-founded Albert puffed, looking from horse to horse as if they might have witnessed something different.
“Tink, what are you lookin a-”
Hermia came to join the old mare’s side who once more was raving on to her self. She never finished her sentence as through the haze of the distance stepped forward something definitely more dead then alive. The flesh was melted, caked onto the bright white of bone. Not a inch of hair was left. Eyes balls were black holes that dug deep into brain that rotted inside head. It moved with swinging legs, joints obviously fused together yet somehow it could keep pace with a cheetah. Mouth opened once again in a howl that ripped into bones and turned them into ice. Each tooth was jagged, as if filed down to perfection to kill. A grunt answered by its side, a large mass that could be recognized for a draft except every inch of the body was bubbled and more like brain then flesh as if proud flesh covered every inch of it’s body. One blood filled eye ball hung lamely from skull. Another shrieked grunting figure approached weaving drunkenly about at a rapid pace that resembled more shark swimming through air then horse. This figure was nothing but blackened bone.
“Holy. Mother. Of. God.”
Slowly the words escaped Hermia’s mouth. She was frozen. Unable. To. Process.
What the fuck am I looking at?
Head flung to ripped at her own belly.
Wake up time.
But she did not wake. She was not removed from this new nightmare. Another creature merging with blackened bones protruding with rotting flesh that flapped with every step. Loose, proud flesh smacking against ribcage. Smacking against bone with every step. They were moving in a pack she could see now. A bunch of rotting corpses hunting something... Something. That something was Tejango.
“FUCKING. JESUS. CHRIST.”
As if on cue they dug into him, eating him alive with movements that were anything but natural. Grunts that resembled demons raising to meet her petrified ears. Grunts that she knew were joy but made her head spin. His body was quick to vanish. Not a morsel was left behind and the sound of crunching bones rung in her ears. Others had come to her side, witnessed and followed Rupert’s flee, but she was oblivious to them. All there was her, and these things.
Walkers? Zombies? Demons? Voodoo?
This was what old fairytales were made of. Stories passed down to keep children in line. Horrors to tell around a dark night with friends to see who was the bravest. This was not real.
This isn’t real.
They locked in on her with her thought raising to the challenge of proving her wrong. Thus began their ascent. So unnatural. So strange. Oddly mesmerizing.
How do they move?
She was completely detached. There was only one way to keep the mind from losing all control and that was to refuse to accept this as a truth.
They were running. Why was she running? She couldn’t remember. She could remember the smell of rotting flesh. Or maybe she could smell rotting flesh. Everything was blurry. There was a noise. Grunting? Howling? Maybe stone rubbing on stone.... She couldn’t figure it out. Couldn’t identify what her senses were telling her. Or maybe wouldn’t. All there was the ground landing under foot and smells that tightened and choked the throat. She was panting. Fear? From the exertion of running up hill? The world was caving in around her. Everything was black except the next tree ahead to dodge.
Why am I running...?
Tink was leading.
How strange.
Crashing through the woods like a bull to her left was Vie and Albert.
That is going to hurt.
Behind her, urging her forward was Bellinda. Each 5 paces a nip to her rump.
Where is Black Bear?
Eyes darted around.
No Black Bear. He wasn’t running.
Where. The. Fuck. Is. Black Bear.
Crunch. Noise. Something breaking. The presence behind her urging her forward disappeared and with it replaced the noises of spilling blood. No. The smell of spilling blood. Then crunching bones. Ripping flesh. Bellinda was dead. The first to be taken. Certainly not the last. No one could outrun something that wasn’t meant to exist.
Reality sucks.





No more yielding but a dream