Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
Time passes, though Gale has no way of knowing how much. An hour? Half a day?
Long enough that he feels fully rested, the brindle stallion finds, and fully recovered as well. His head no longer aches, and he tosses his head as if to test it, which sends the length of his white mine rippling. His head feels light, and when he goes to stretch his wings he finds nothing there. The dark blue stallion turns his head, eyeing the bare expanse of his ribcage. He’s never seen the pale stripes there, but he struggles to see them in the darkness. Recalling the way he’d shifted his eyes to see differently before, Gale squints his blue eyes and all of sudden the world looks different.
Everything is soft and grey, with soft shapes of brighter lights deep in the gray shadows he knows to be the trees.
No longer does the flora wave in a rainbow of shades, but instead is just part of the grey blur that Beqanna has become. The only color now is in the warmth of the living, and when Gale’s searching eyes find some coming toward him, he stops.
“Mazikeen?” He calls out, trying to reconcile the colorful shape with a body he knows. He’s not entirely sure that whatever he sees is a horse, but he is sure that it is not a monster. (Not this newest kind, at least, he reminds himself – the kelpies are warm-blooded) “Is that you?”
The desire to move his wings – to take flight or pull them tighter he is not sure – comes quickly, and Gale feels something like a phantom limb as he sighs in frustration. He shakes his head, trying to push away the hallucination. He’s heard of this phenomenon before; his father had known someone who’d dreamt his missing leg was real. The black wings (identical to Erne’s) that have grown from his sides fit more sleekly than his white ones, and in the darkness he does not look at himself.
@[Mazikeen]
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