Beqanna is a raging inferno beneath the survivors, and they are helpless to do anything. All they can do is watch as the fire rolls like waves down and across the valleys. All they can see is the path of destruction the unchecked wildfire leaves in its wake. From their height atop the mountain, the trees look like dandelions. But instead of wind catching their seeds and sending them flying off to pollinate, the fire incinerates the branches, sending only plumes of smoke into the sky. Eventually, the smoke grows so dense that it’s impossible to see through it. It fills up every space and crevice below until it connects as a single, black cloud covering the lands they once knew as home. The cloud stops its heaven-bound advancing some dozen yards or so underneath of the survivors, like soft terrain they can venture down onto if they so desire.
All they can hope is that there are other places, other mountains, maybe, where other survivors have found. They can’t see any from where they’re at, but it doesn’t mean they don’t exist elsewhere. Jaide pulls her gaze away from the fires long enough to count the horses alongside her on the mountain. There are twelve, thirteen including her. Thirteen horses left in a land that had been full to the brim with equines before this latest catastrophe. It had been full of other life, too. The swamps that are now dried out had been teeming with caiman and piranha. The forests that are now crisped were once a refuge for fallow deer and timber wolves. She thinks of her Jungle, invisible now through the smog. All of the kingdoms are gone, but this loss of biodiversity from the Amazons will be unparalleled. The Sisterhood knows and appreciates life more than any of the others, perhaps. Its loss hurts her to her very core.
She watches long after the others turn away.
There’s nothing to see, but she finds herself rooted to her spot. She stands until her legs shake with spent adrenaline and loss of energy. She stands until her eyes start to flutter from exhaustion and smoke. The occasional crack or sizzle echoing from below jerks her to attention every time, the sounds of the dying land a torturous alarm. She is grateful, in a completely sickening way. She thinks someone should be here at the end of everything; someone should remember the apocalypse. At one point, the wind shifts, bringing a load of smoke to waft over onto her spot. The young mare breathes it in and chokes on it before she is forced to turn away. As she walks and coughs, her throat tastes like ashes and death. It coats her tongue, making it heavy as she sweeps it across her lips, trying in vain to rid her mouth of the taste. A horrifying though occurs to her, and she shudders when she realizes how many plants, animals and horses flavor it.
It’s impossible to distinguish the heat of the survivor’s bodies from the fire’s heat all around, but she manages to find the others in the dark. She can hear their breathing, can distinguish the different cadences of each horse. One breathes deeply, restfully, fully unaffected by the raging inferno that could reach them at any moment. Another inhales and exhales rapidly, as if they can’t wait to get to the next breath (as if they are worried each might be their last). Jaide moves towards this one, intending on comforting them, until another sound catches her ears. It’s soft and steady, almost a mewling carried on the charred breeze. She leaves the group and heads up the mountain a ways, stumbling at the incline in the dark. The sound is much closer now, originating somewhere off to her left. When she pushes past a bush (burrs catching all along her sides) she finds the source.
The creature lunges at her, and in the inky black, she is unable to see to avoid it. It pushes its muzzle into her shoulder, nuzzling against the crook of it, and she sighs. A small colt, not even a yearling, leans against her. “It’s alright,” she says, trying to push her words past the lump of soot in her throat. Her voice is as smoky as the air around her, but she’s glad. It makes her sound older than the barely three years she’s lived; it gives the boy some semblance of comfort, of authority when he’s surely lost the one who’s supposed to give it.
~
It’s uncertain when the sun rises, exactly, because it doesn’t happen like she’s always remembered it should. Instead, the sky simply lightens, a red-orange haze where before it had been black, punctuated only by firelight. The survivors are quick to wake up as the filtered light hits their eyes. Jaide and the colt move down the mountain to join the others who are still largely arranged in their tight cluster. A few stand apart from the group, and it’s these that the blue roan accesses most critically. One looks almost embarrassed to have taken up with the others overnight, her eyes dart between the rest of the horses accusingly, as if it had somehow been their fault. The chestnut seems almost to want someone to challenge her, but none rise to the occasion. Many have the shell-shocked look of war victims. And while the night seems to have killed the active flames of the land below, it seems to have also stolen the fire from some of the survivors’ eyes. They are defeated, and that is no good. It’s impossible to build anything without some materials to begin. Jaide knows she has her work cut out for her – they all do.
They pull together at the urging of an older stallion. He calls to the thirteen survivors, his voice a deep bass that echoes in the still air around them. Jaide moves into the circle, the black colt pressed firmly against her side. Only the chestnut mare – Rouge, as she names herself after much prodding – lingers outside the group. Alpha, the stallion with the deep voice, wants to make hard and fast rules right away. It’s clear from what he says that he thinks he will make a fine First King After Civilization. The others drink in his words as if they are sweet nectar, as if they are the balm that will heal everything. Jaide is not so sure, and she notices with some appreciation that Rouge is scowling as well. When Alpha says that the rest of the stallions should begin searching the wasted land below for life and leaving the mares safe with him, the once-Amazon steps in.
She shakes her head and looks at Alpha, making it clear she doesn’t agree with his plan at all. “We shouldn’t split up. We need to stay together.” She looks at the rest of the group then, seeing the fog lift from some of their faces as they realize there is a choice at all in the matter. “There’s safety and strength as a group. Nobody should go anywhere alone.” “What are you so afraid of? There’s nothing out there, not anymore.” The older stallion glares at her, trying to draw the crowd back in his favor. Their eyes follow the conversation back and forth, desperate to cling to whoever comes out ahead. Jaide swallows, not really wanting to lead the group but seeing no other way to avoid what will surely be the Alpha-show if not. “Look,” she says, shrugging openly, “none of us know what started this fire, is all I’m saying. Could be natural or it could be a magician who expected a clean slate after everything burned.” It’s clear most of the horses hadn’t considered it by their shocked expressions, but she presses on. “If so, we are the only blips left to clear on their radar. Let’s just work together, okay?”
When everyone comes around, that’s exactly what they do.
That first day post-apocalypse is as difficult as expected. Jaide is a collaborator, not a natural leader, but with only one other strong contender, she finds herself giving orders midway through the day. It’s easier because, until only yesterday, she’d been a goddess. She wishes she still had that power, that fire of an entirely different nature. She wishes she could call on the plants to fix themselves, to dig deeper into the charred soil and find the water running hundreds of feet below. She thinks about all she could do if she was still that woman. A mage and a mother, a healer and a friend to the world she’d created. Now, she is just another one of few. One of the last of Beqanna’s dynasty.
She tries to put what she could do out of her mind. She remains firm in her belief that they should never go anywhere alone and sends a bay stallion and two grullo mares up the mountain, assuring them that there should be a stream originating somewhere above. She has no real basis for such a thought, having grown up in the relatively flat Jungle, but she relies on gravity to fill in the blanks. If there is water anywhere above, it will have to flow down at some point. In their clearing, the fire has left evidence of its existence. Where they walk, they leave hoofprints in the ash. It’s a good way to keep track of the comings and goings of their crew, but not so healthy overall. Jaide warns the others not to drink from any pools they might find, as they’ll surely be polluted. It’s inconvenient to trek up the mountain each time they want to quench their thirst, but it’s safer in the long run, she knows. It’s unfortunate that she has to think so far into the future, that they will likely have to sustain this small population for as long as it takes for life to once again blossom below, but it’s the hard truth. She only hopes there is enough food to last that long.
To that end, Alpha, the older buckskin tobiano stallion, sends a pair of mares around the mountain to find all the available grasses. Jaide is rather useless in this regard. She can spend hours listing both the edible plants and the poisonous plants in the Amazons, but here, she must learn as much as the others. She finds the two mares at the end of the day and spends time hearing the information from the direct source. One’s named Vert, a pretty amber champagne with green eyes. The other is a sturdy palomino named Jaune. Yes, there is plenty of meadow grass on the other side of the mountain. Yes, it should sustain them for at least a month after all the roots have been pulled up here. Yes, the path to get there is across a narrow face of granite and unimaginably dangerous. She gulps when she hears this but smiles for their sakes. They aren’t much older than her, and though some part of her is surprised they defer to a younger mare, she doesn’t resent the responsibility it implies. Their faces are earnest and their energy electric as they relay the news. They’d forged ahead, putting the group above their own safety. Jaide thinks they would have made excellent Sisters, if the Sisterhood still existed. “Wonderful, you both did wonderful.” She worries, but she hides it well.
The one bright light is the black colt. “I was Noir,” he finally tells her as the hazy sky turns from dark gray to inky black, “my mom called me Noir.” It’s the first words he’s spoken since he ran into her the night before, and he cries as soon as they leave his mouth. His dam couldn’t have been a typical Beqanna mother, couldn’t have been neglectful or abusive or even absent. She must have loved him, as he clearly loves her, and it will only be worse for him because of it. “Shhh, shhh,” Jaide pulls him close, feeling his velveteen muzzle tuck into her chest as she does it. “You are still Noir and always will be. I’ll keep you safe.” She brushes the top of his head with her lips. He doesn’t believe it yet, but in time, he will come to. The warm body is enough comfort so soon after the fires.
The stars do not come out that first night.
The sky seems to boil with its billowing, grey clouds that blot out the heavens. It takes almost a week for it to clear and Jaide thinks that it’s alright, for it has taken nearly that long for the crew to come together, anyway.
The general confusion and unrest calms as they settle into a pattern. In groups, they go out and forage in sparse, small meadows along the mountainside. The food isn’t particularly tasty – in fact, it’s rather tough and bland – but it will keep them in weight for a while. At least, until they are forced to venture to the mecca place of grass. She keeps it in the back of her mind at all times, a last card she is unwilling to put into play just yet, despite their discomforts. It’s good, she thinks one day, catching Rouge’s distrustful eye in the distance and walking by, this is how our ancestors eked out a living. If they could survive off of scrub grass and thistles, then so can we. The water more than makes up for it, clear and cool as it is up the mountain. She makes the trek many times a day as they all do, and the path is already becoming worn from use. She takes her constant shadow, Noir, and a quiet gray mare named Gris.
Gris is very old, but despite her appearance, it hardly shows in her movement. She is surprisingly spry even with the most swayed back Jaide has ever seen. She moves up the incline with the practiced ease of someone who’s lived on one their whole life, her feet finding purchase even when the blue girl thinks there is none to be found. Oftentimes, she asks the mare where to put her own feet. She asks other things, too. She asks for tales from before, from the woman’s past and for advice now. She likes her black and white take on things, but they disagree often, too. “Mares should always obey their stallions,” Gris says candidly as she always is, “you should listen to Alpha. He’s only trying to follow the natural order of things. And I think he likes you.” Jaide rolls her eyes at this, grinning at Gris but taking her words with a grain of salt. She knows enough to respect her elders, but on this matter, they will never agree. She believes in teamwork and equality; Alpha believes in himself and the subservience of women.
She tries to share her beliefs with Noir as the first week spills into the second post-apocalypse. He can make his own decisions, of course, but she is secretly glad he’d unknowingly chosen her that first night. Alpha draws more and more of the other mares closer to him every day, building a following that is hard to deny exists. He doesn’t try to, to his credit. If there’s one thing he’s always been, it’s transparent about his ambitions. The others still follow her idea of pairing off to perform tasks, but some seem to do so begrudgingly now. One day, Jaide reminds a young girl to take a friend to one of the meadows. The mare looks past her to Alpha, who has come up behind her. “I’ll be along shortly, go on ahead.” She flounces off, and when Jaide turns to confront the paint stallion, he smirks in triumph.
For once, the black colt is not by her side. He has gone with Gris up to the stream, and the blue girl finds herself alone with Alpha for the first time. He steps closer, sensing her apprehension. She isn’t scared of him but knows that he will try to push his agenda on her. “You know, you don’t have to fight me on everything.” His deep voice is so close that it reverberates in her ribcage. It’s jarring, and she wonders how the other girls find it so enticing. “You’re very beautiful.” He presses against her, negating all the space that had just been between them. “Leave me alone,” Jaide jumps at his touch, her eyes narrowing to almost nothing. He tries once more, moving in even closer and grinning. “It’s the end of the world. It’s over, really. This is what we are supposed to do – this is why we survived. That’s all I want…to make life again.” His teeth find her neck and she jerks away, stunned at first, then running as soon as she has a mind to.
She runs blindly at first, desperate to escape the clearing. She doesn’t know if Alpha is following or not, but she doesn’t really care either way. Jaide climbs higher up the mountain than she’s ever gone before. The terrain that was once slippery now only slows her down marginally – Gris has taught her well. She hikes until the breath strains in her lungs and her heart races dangerously, and when she finally stops, she realizes how foolish it was. The more energy she expends, the more food she will need. Their supply is dwindling as it is. She vows to bypass her evening graze as she catches her breath, staring out at the expansive, depressing view below. All of Beqanna – all of what remains - is spread out as far as the eye can see. The snow-capped peaks of some northern mountains are just visible on the horizon, and in front of that, the land is an indistinguishable palette of blacks and sooty grays.
“He tried to get you, too, didn’t he? The lilting voice startles her in this desolate, empty space, and Jaide turns quickly. The chestnut mare Rouge stands just behind her, looking almost hesitant in the shadows of the mountain’s pinnacle – like she hadn’t want to reveal her hiding place. Come to think of it, Jaide can’t remember the last time she saw the skulking mare – has she been up her over a week now? Her words strike a chord in the young blue girl, and she immediately understands and nods. Rouge looks down but moves forward, her eyes lifting at the last minute. “He wouldn’t let me leave. I – I tried to escape, when the fires first reached our herdland. But he’s stronger than he appears.” Her eyes flash then, that same old spark she’d first had, as if daring Jaide to question her ability to leave.
“Oh Rouge, I’m so sorry. I didn’t understand – if I’d have known…” She moves to embrace the fire-red mare, ever the consoler, but Rouge shifts to avoid the gesture. Up close, she’s rather strikingly pretty, despite the many scars and bite-marks that cover her. Or maybe because of them, Jaide thinks. She’s not disappointed that the mare refuses her, and she’s about to apologize when the chestnut moves right by her, her eyes focused intensely on the ground far below. Jaide turns, too, wondering what’s stolen Rouge’s attention so quickly.
“I thought I saw something moving… Yes! There.” She tips her muzzle, indicating a spot just before Survivor Mountain. Jaide can see nothing at first – only another patch of defeated, dusty earth – until it shrieks, revealing its location. It’s vaguely equine in shape, but it’s so gaunt that she doesn’t know how it can be alive, much less moving. And moving quickly, she notes with increasing confusion. Surely nothing can have survived three weeks down there without food or water? It lifts its nose into the air as it runs, scenting the air for something. But what? It moves sideways across their line of sight at first, but then it seems to pick up on a smell. The two mares watch with dim understanding, and then it turns towards them and stops. “What in the hell? It pauses for a very long time and then slowly, its head begins to lift as if it can see them perched atop the mountain. The bony creature lets loose a wild, blood-curdling cry and Jaide’s stomach drops within her. “We have to get back to the others right now,” she says, but Rouge is already moving in wordless agreement.
As they walk, the once-Amazon watches as the ramifications of the creature’s sighting and subsequent call become clear. A horde of the animals descend down a hill that had been blocking their view of them. The women move faster, not caring anymore that the rocks skitter beneath their feet, threatening to topple them at any moment. They reach the clearing in no time at all. It’s relatively peaceful still, untouched by the trauma that will likely be in their future. Gris ambles over slowly when she sees Jaide, her dark eyes showing no hint of knowing what is to come, of the horror the two mares have just seen. She doesn’t want to tell her, and she’s glad there’s not time enough to even if she did. “Gris, there’s no time to explain. I need you to take everyone further up the mountain. Use the stream trail or find a better one, the water isn’t important right now.” Seeing some sort of excitement building, the two ambitious girls – Vert and Jaune - race over, their eyes lit with the notion of adventure (of anything outside the boring nature of their survival). They are the only two not yet swayed by Alpha’s advances, and in this moment, Jaide is so grateful they’ve resisted. “You two, help Gris. Convince Alpha’s mares to go with you.” Rouge pipes up then, “and if you can’t convince them, make them.”
The three nod in understanding and move off. The blue roan is pleased they so willingly follow orders without knowing the full extent of why they are doing so. It’s better this way, she thinks, and puts them out of her mind for now. She has only a mind to find Noir, and her eyes scan the clearing before she finds the buoy of black bobbing in a sea of browns and greens. Thank Goddess. She races towards him with Rouge quick on her heels. A sudden smell like rotting meat reaches her nostrils, almost forcing her to a stop. The sound of a lot of moving bodies follows then, but far unlike any bodies in her mind’s lexicon. And while she can sympathize with almost anyone or anything, given the chance, she feels it will never be possible with these creatures. Because they burst out into the open then, and her instincts are now as hot as the kingdoms had been as they burned. They tell her to abandon Noir because she is running perpendicular to the charred animals. They tell her to turn tail because he is in their cross-hairs and she will never make it to him in time, as impossibly fast as they are.
A deer bounds out of the sparse trees at exactly the wrong time, its aim for the downward slopes of the mountain. Two of the hellish creatures break from the pack to intercept it, their jaws working hungrily even before they make contact with the deer’s soft hide, anticipating the kill. It’s decisive and swift when they collide, overrunning the helpless herbivore and tearing into it instantly. The deer’s head rolls away when one of the creatures becomes too overzealous with its gnawing. Jaide’s stomach turns, but she keeps moving. The lines have been drawn on both sides; the stakes have been realized. In trying to save Noir, she will likely die (he will too, she thinks, unless I can distract them long enough). To her credit, Rouge runs right alongside Jaide. Her mouth is set in a grim line but her eyes spark in some sort of happiness. It doesn’t make sense, that happiness in this scene of death, but there is no time to question it. “When we get to him, you take him to safety, Rouge. Understand?” The chestnut looks at her blankly for a moment before nodding. “Okay. Yeah, of course.” She will die for the boy, of course she will. He’s lost enough in his short life (she has too, her mother and father likely wisps of smoke in their respective homes, but losing him would be far too much).
“Jaaiide,” Noir wails upon seeing her, upon seeing that she will not make it before they do. He’s backed against a tree, his brown eyes reflecting more fear than she’s ever seen or wishes to see again. It might be easier if he’d accepted his fate by now, but he still struggles for his life, still cries for help when he surely knows it’s not going to be in the cards for him. Alpha suddenly appears on a rise just above the boy, accessing the scene quickly before calling out to the mares. “Come on, you both can still make it if you leave him!” Jaide spares him a glare but neither make a word or a move towards him. The buckskin tobiano scowls and disappears into the bush, not looking back at Noir once. He’s safe for now, but probably not for long, she thinks.
The horde clatters and chirps as the two lines draw together at a point – at Noir. The creatures reach him first, but Noir moves alongside the tree line, scraping his sides against the branches as he runs. It’s a small reprieve as he heads towards the mares – one charred corpse yanks a good portion of his tail away – but he makes it to them. “Go!” Jaide plants her feet when the three horses finally align, intending to be the launching point for Noir and Rouge’s retreat. She breathes in the rot and ash and thinks how much she doesn’t want to die. But seeing the young lines of the boy’s face, of a face he will grow into because of her, makes it easier. Seeing the abject terror shining in his eyes that will be replaced by joy and life someday makes it all worth it. “Go,” she says more gently this time.
Rouge does, but in the wrong direction.
She darts forward into the oncoming horde, her scars like dazzling armor in the post-apocalypse light. They will do little to save her. The creatures stop for a moment, unused to willing prey, but then they unleash themselves fully. “NO, ROUGE!” Jaide screams, but it’s too late. It’s obvious they will decimate the chestnut mare and pull her apart in no time. The blue girl realizes that Noir has seen it all – is still watching, dumbfounded – and urges him away. There’s nothing they can do for the mare who has survived so much only to go out like this. The barely-mare and colt run. Safe for now, but probably not for long, she thinks again, an echo that will not leave her. But the fire-colored woman has given them a chance, at least. And maybe she has saved herself, too – maybe what awaits the survivors now is starvation or the continued advance of the dead-creatures. “Thank you,” she breathes into the wind, not caring if they are still doomed later down the road. Nothing can diminish Rouge’s sacrifice; nothing can take away from what she’s given up.
Jaide
girl of fire and ice