"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
The water ripples around me, slithers of crimson like throbbing veins decorating the surface, inching further and further away until the area around me was clearer, my wounds sodden through yet clean. the pain then, it throbbed raw, the lacerations deep and some sinew exposed. Bone deep right by my shoulder, and as I flexed my body, the blood bubbled to the surface once more. I winced then, the pain causing pulses of memories to rivulet across my blank mind.
Run. Run. Run. I recall a face, worn with lines, aged grey around his forehead. His teeth were sharp, bared tight and he forced the words out like poison, and just like poison they bubbled in my mind. That memory was soon gone, back to my flickering reflection in the pooling water. My eyes turned upward to Wichita, her eyes brimming with concern -- is that what it was? what was the feeling, worry, concern? Did it mar at hearts like stakes embedding deeper and deeper? My eyes glazed momentarily as I pulled myself up and out of the water, but not before staring aimlessly into the rippling reflection.
Cream mane was slick against my neck, thin in places, my hips jutted out, my eyes sank hollow in my skull. I must have appeared like a creature of death to the poor child. I turned my head to quietly observe the little inky filly. A child. A life, and I had witnessed her grace the earth with pumping blood and a sparkling soul. I watched her curiously, little thing, before my attention was drawn back to the mare. My own brow furrowed, eyes squinting, trying to remember, but the blank, bleak state of my mind was becoming a mission to navigate. Just when a few torrents of memory grace the clear walls, they are gone again and all I'm left with is bleak infinity.
'Reuen. Reuen ran. Ran as was told. Ran as far as could go.' the longest sentence slipped my lips; it felt dry, course like sandpaper grating my tongue. I chewed, aimlessly, without reason. And I swayed a little, legs still feeling the journey, even if I had parked myself in the shadows and became a guardian of some sorts. Watching, waiting. My muscles ached with every little movement. 'He said to run. He said to run.' my eyes well with a crystalline sheen, tears, tears? they leaked from my bleak eyes and trickled down my already wet cheek. Perhaps Wichita would think it droplets of creek water, rolling down my cheeks, but then the gasp came from my lungs and it felt like I had finally breathed. After an eternity of holding it in.
'Pain. Everything hurt. Everyone hurt. Pain.' I tremble then, my wet skin shivering, chocolate dark slick skin, trembling like a dying leaf. I closed my eyes and stopped, the thought was a dark one, like the poison in an arrow that had struck my heart and was seeping through my veins, it grew and grew until I took a step forward, closer to the mare. Her soft, warm skin, still damp from the labour of life giving, still slick with the pain she too had suffered. I placed my nose against her, soft, warm breaths pooling. 'Hurt. No more hurt, please.'
As I pleaded, a whisper of a breath, another joined our trio. My eyes flickered over her. Black and white, like the moonlit sky, a swath of moon suspended against the black. blackness. I shiver at the thought and then take a few tentative steps to the side to allow the new mare room. She is visibly concerned for Wichita -- of course, pain is not without concern. I bob my head at her acknowledgment, watching her, my body as still as the lofty statue it was. Slick locks unmoving against my neck. Dead still, my lungs even shallowing down to a brief inhale.
'Welcome. Welcome to the Gates.' I mimic her, my voice a fragile, fine glass flute, near cracking. 'Fiasko. Fiasko.' my tongue rolls over her name, tasting it, chewing it thoughtfully. bleak and hollow eyes then meet Fiasko and a toothy smile, cracks my strained face. 'Reuen.' All is ruin, all is Reuen.
I follow mother with little complaint, and I am glad I do. I do not like the tones spilling from her maw, words ringing with stress. She sounds scared, and it makes me scared as well.
I watch them though, the adults, they are strange to me, but kind. Mother is warm, her sunshine skin is welcome on my own and I stay close to her side. We watch the other woman, the one that is dark skinned, her hair flaxen in contrast. Mother had told her to wash, but I'm not sure this is what she meant, the other flopping into the water like a fish. I giggle but mom gives me a look, telling me quietly that it is not polite. I nod, though I don't understand why.
After some time Reuen emerges from the creek, sopping wet but still much cleaner than when she had started. There are still cuts though, some really deep, I ask my mom if she is going to be okay. She thinks she will she says, but she isn't sure. Another woman is approaching us, her coat is different colors. Some places are black like my own hide, others are bright is an opposite color,white. She has a large pink scar on her face, and I wonder if she had gotten hurt as well. I cling into my mother's sunshine colored side, as she approaches. She seems to know mother though, expressing how lovely I am, asking me my name.
"Tioga," I reply, meakly because I am shy. "Did you get hurt too? Mother can help you, like she is helping Reuen."I manage to find more words, though my voice still small.
