And Then There Was Light

There is no force in the world powerful enough to keep me from returning to the ethereal forest in search of Suli, even though deep down, I know that she will not be there. The hole that her disappearance has left in my heart, my soul is a gaping one, one that cannot simply be healed by time. I demand an explanation for what happened, I desire to have her back, I wish only to know she is safe and that someday, she will return just the same as I remember her. Merlin, too, has become even more withdrawn than usual, but like me, he keeps his tangerine eyes peeled for his friend despite the sickness that’s clung to him since we got here. The dark memory of the dragon snarling uncharacteristically towards us before disappearing into the thick of the shadows is shattered at the sound of a voice. Slowing my step, I pause and strain to listen; the pitch must belong to that of a child, whose simply spoken word twists my already mutilated heart just a little tighter. My pace quickens, but when a thunderous clap reverberates through the forest, I find myself running to get to him. He’s a little thing, shrunk back in terror with eyes held open wide, eyes that seem to glow so brilliantly against the encroaching darkness. I slow my step as I drew closer, bister eyes gentle but laced with concern as I look upon him, doing my very best not to startle the boy any further. A quick glance about confirms my fear that he is indeed alone in this world so foreign, so hungry and unforgiving. With considerable care I outstretch a velvet, whiskered muzzle towards him; the last thing I wish to do is frighten him any further and drive him away. “It’s alright, now,” baritone soothes and reassures, and should the colt begin to show any sign of fear at my presence, then I would immediately step away to give him the space he required. If not, I would linger close, and hope that I could bring comfort to him. “Are you lost?”

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