Hanging on by a thread

Eira... Surprisingly - and much to Eira’s dismay - the young colt recoiled without warning from the binding stare shared between them; her heart which had fluttered with innocently felt admiration, lurched and began to pound, startled. All too quickly a cold loneliness moved to consume the void of humid space which stood now in his absence and the small blue horse’s puzzled gaze followed the swift-swinging motion of his rippling adolescent hindquarters (the hazel whisk of his tail, sweeping hock), as they hastened to retreat, away through the lush rainforest thicket; out of sight altogether. Eira sighed softly, the sound magnified by  resonating confusion, unsure what exactly had caused him to leave at that moment. For a minute longer, twin cupped ears upon her poll strained to listen - eager for the sound of his usual return journey. Nothing but the low thrum of insects answered her longing. It was a feeling she was well accustomed to, isolation, and though the heavy walls of rejection caved quickly in upon her paused, fine figure, Eira knew that to linger on behind him and dwell on assumptions would serve only to corrode away her good-sense - there were giants in this forest, thrice-headed predators, no less. To sway beneath the cunning cloud of distraction now, would be a very grave act of self-scarification, indeed. The filly pulled free her eyes from the line of leafy emerald which had swallowed him whole and drew a steady breath of the motionless, muggy air. The shadows were growing around her, and the glint of scorching light beyond the towering canopy had sunk deep into the west. Darkness would smother the area quickly once the cradling horizon of hills to the west stood taller than the sun. The enchanted rash (it was now an oozing blanket of scab) which, despite the colt’s very best efforts, refused to heal properly, was itchy and without the deterrence he’d previously been offering, Eira found her teeth eagerly raking across the surface. It was such an unbearably uncomfortable sensation, only amplified by the irritation of her touch; she craved the soothing cool of the ocean and began a slow crawl in that direction. (Exit) "I am a book of snow, a spacious hand, an open meadow, a circle that waits, I belong to the earth and its winter."

- Pablo Neruda, Winter Garden