As he heals, his circle grows wider out from Pangea.
Today he feels strong enough to slip through the canyons and cross the sea of silt until it becomes the snow-covered grass of the meadow crunching under his feet. It has been eons since he was last here. In fact, he thinks it was winter then, too. He used to enjoy entering the common lands as a ghost. It was easier to scout out company, easier to pretend he was hidden from the responsibilities that followed him even still. It wasn’t that he minded them, of course, but it was freeing to set them beside himself rather than ahead every once in a while.
Now, they and every other responsibility are all behind him.
It is a sobering thought, but the bitter cold blanks his mind of any thoughts. There is only the violent shivering of his emaciated body. The climate is so different than Pangea and he is so very thin that it is all he can do to keep moving into the meadow rather than turn tail back to the sheltered canyons. He pushes past the northern wind that tosses his pepper and gold hairs every which way, including into his eyes. Every footstep is a struggle and he welcomes it. To be free of his memories - to think only of one hoof in front of another – is a blessing he hadn’t anticipated coming here.
Ramiel grits his teeth and presses onward. If he can make it to the other side, there is a familiar copse of trees he means to find. He remembers following Joscelin here when they were just kids. It was their first adventure outside of the Dale, the both of them sneaking away with her as the ringleader and he as the reluctant but protective brother. It was where she had felled a tree with her beams of light, drawing a small crowd and inadvertently drawing him to his future.
There.
Someone lingers in the shadows of a small cluster of trees. It might not be the same trees he hid behind those many moons ago, but it is close enough. Close enough to pretend it is her silhouetted in the soft light of snowglare. He stops some distance away, braced against the cold wind, and tries to let his thoughts be carried away on it again.
It almost works.
Today he feels strong enough to slip through the canyons and cross the sea of silt until it becomes the snow-covered grass of the meadow crunching under his feet. It has been eons since he was last here. In fact, he thinks it was winter then, too. He used to enjoy entering the common lands as a ghost. It was easier to scout out company, easier to pretend he was hidden from the responsibilities that followed him even still. It wasn’t that he minded them, of course, but it was freeing to set them beside himself rather than ahead every once in a while.
Now, they and every other responsibility are all behind him.
It is a sobering thought, but the bitter cold blanks his mind of any thoughts. There is only the violent shivering of his emaciated body. The climate is so different than Pangea and he is so very thin that it is all he can do to keep moving into the meadow rather than turn tail back to the sheltered canyons. He pushes past the northern wind that tosses his pepper and gold hairs every which way, including into his eyes. Every footstep is a struggle and he welcomes it. To be free of his memories - to think only of one hoof in front of another – is a blessing he hadn’t anticipated coming here.
Ramiel grits his teeth and presses onward. If he can make it to the other side, there is a familiar copse of trees he means to find. He remembers following Joscelin here when they were just kids. It was their first adventure outside of the Dale, the both of them sneaking away with her as the ringleader and he as the reluctant but protective brother. It was where she had felled a tree with her beams of light, drawing a small crowd and inadvertently drawing him to his future.
There.
Someone lingers in the shadows of a small cluster of trees. It might not be the same trees he hid behind those many moons ago, but it is close enough. Close enough to pretend it is her silhouetted in the soft light of snowglare. He stops some distance away, braced against the cold wind, and tries to let his thoughts be carried away on it again.
It almost works.
Ramiel
@Ryatah