bodyache

lux apollyon where once was light, now darkness falls She comes through the portal in the manner of many others: inadvertently, without much fanfare, a slight blip interrupting her journey between points A and B. There is no clear transition from there to here, no oppressive change in atmosphere or aggressive flash of light. Gradually, the world changes, shadows growing deeper while colors pulse and snap; gradually, the soldier wanders through it, her movements deliberate and careful. There is a certain palpable tension in her movements, the way she swings her broad head, the flaring of her nostrils, the dance of her one good ear. She keeps her right protected, but any could see weakness in the way she favors her fore. She is a machine missing one crucial part, rolling with grace until the clunk of that step, the soldier's fluidity interrupted by a violent, wrenching limp. Do you want to die? It is not an unreasonable question to ask - why else would she have dragged herself here, an eternity from home, her body broken and her spirit crushed? Anyone looking may think her a pitiful thing, but there is something steely in the mare that rejects pity, defies you to offer it at peril to yourself. With militant bullheadedness she carries on, pushing further into the murky dark, her breath coming heavy and her coat slick with a sweat that stings and bites. When she stops it is gradually, and strategic: the finds a tree and leans against it, gingerly and strategically, wincing as pine and bark cuts into raw skin and exposed flesh. Her right fore hangs uselessly, but the great tree supports her weight, and with a deep and rattling breath she sighs, heavy eyelids fluttering shut, letting agony and exhaustion lull her into a light, soldier's sleep.