It had been one night of beauty, one night of sheer clarity that had bound us, but now, now I was cursing him, cursing him to the very bowels of the darkness in the pines. It was a fruitless wish, because most of my sweaty frame ached for him, the fluttering heart in my chest wanted nothing more than to fit beside him, feel his warm flesh and his beating heart. Oh, but the cursing was still there, because this pain, this pain was excruciating.
I had known he would be an impatient one, the long nights of unease as he shifted, the seed within growing and growing, blossoming into something more than a rose. It was the budding bloom within me, that had swelled and swelled until it was becoming quite the chore to move around. And for me, restlessness marred my wayward limbs and regardless of the pain, the burdensome weight I was carrying, I insisted on wading through the pines, watchful of the borders. Protecting the heart, the soul of the chamber. It was ingrained into me now, the landscape, and often in the dark winter nights, I could wander with eyes closed and still manage to circle the entirety of the boundary, only when the sun reach the morning sky, did I realise that the bruises beneath my eyes were broadening and the desire to slumber was weighing heavy at my lids.
it had been obvious the spot I chose. The tinder soft on the ground, the old, moulding leaves. It was a strange comfort, the pinecones lay in a disarray, the moss as bright as winter would allow. It was the spot where I had given up my masquerade, the night that we had shared and ultimately created this swell of my barrel. It was here, my knees buckled and I lay on my side, lungs like iron, heaving, gasping.
I tried to wait, but such a feat went against every part of my body. My neck perspired to the point of foam knitting together clumps of golden mane. I was truly a mess, a mess of winter coat, slick with sweat and matted tresses, knotted with clumps of dirt and twigs. I thrashed my hinds, kicking at the bare trunks, hooves striking the solid bark, anything to take away the pain that surged through me like hot knives. They sliced through me, my abdomen, my loins. I called then, even though my teeth were clamped tight, threatening to shred the softness of my tongue, my call slipped free. Ragged and hoarse, old and frail. I was young, I was still not even matured in my prime, this was meant to be easy. Or was it? For the third time since I had settled in Beqanna, the Chamber, I thought of my mother. Her too kind eyes, and what she would say, what words could soothe this moment and make it easier. Hallucinations came then, like flashes of dream wisps. I saw her, gold and sunset orange, slipping through the trees. Gentle blue eyes looking down at me. Oh, if it were her, tears slipped from my eyes, I whickered, gentle, low. The sound choking in my throat, raspy and hoarse.
That’s when I realised that time had shifted and the moon became the sun, the black night turned to blue. The gilded rays of light I had mistook for my dam, stabbed at my heart as well as through the boughs above. I was alone in this agony, alone in another sense. I wait, I try and I wait, but the pain bolts through me and my body surges, kicking at the moist earth and decaying leaves, pushing my head deeper into the ground, teeth grinding, shredding at bits of twig that I took in my mouth and bit down upon. To stop from sounding so weak, to try and muffle the silent screams that tore from my chest. ’Killdare.’ even though my lungs will to collapse, my throat tightening more and more, it is his name that slips from my dry, cracked lips. ’Killdare.’ I say again, into the crisp early morning air, clouds of hazy breath following. I push my sloping shoulders deeper into the ground, grinding my knees deeper into the mud. I turn my head briefly, my muzzle touching my huge barrel. He should be here to witness this, he needs to be here to witness this. I was tentative in admitting it, but I needed him, we needed him.
E n g e l s f o r s
drink thy posion lightly dear. there are deeper and darker things than you
minister of the chamber |
