Rainforest Cliffs
S A O I R S E
Something snaps in the forest behind the boy, a guttural mutterings, indistinguishable to Saoirse. He forgets about the wind that has brushed past his neck and chest, of the longing to be held by the same affections moving past him. The colt regards the thick forests with an irritable groan instead. One that doesn’t quite escape his lips. It could be anything in there; it could be Kaos, a creature of unlimited power playing their tricks on the last of the Helovians. It could be a trap, a ruse to pull him further for some predatory snack, or…
Perhaps it was mother? Perhaps she had followed him, in some insane hope that he might forgive her if she pursued long enough. The boy teetered then from staying to breaching the forest edges. To push their separation even further, for the hot, burning tongue in his mouth to escalate their relations into a smoldering disconnect. Or to allow the silence to pull them a part, to fray and snap the loose ends with time.
Restless, he entered the forest again, somewhat more refreshed than a few moments ago – fighting the vines. Saoirse’s eyes and ears are on alert, as every second punches the poignant risks surrounding the boy. He can feel the shadows once more, the uneasy crawl as ‘something’ surveys his movements. It hasn’t left; it hasn’t given up its pursuit – the darkness, the void, is right there where he’d left it.
It’s impossible to be silent as he approaches the filly. Her figure a simple structure, silhouetted by the neon light. It’s too early to see what she really is; other than a consortment of moving shapes, that struggles to pass the forest floors. So he hides behind a rather sickly tree for the time being, leaning against its black sap. Taking in the light speckles that adorn her misshapen body.
It’s been a while since he’s seen her, since he’d offered to find some help for the wounds that cover her eyes, or the scabs that were once open and moist with possible infection. Where no one had heeded their cries, and he had been without a reason for why their herd would ignore one of their own. It’s the mane and forelock that jogs his memory, that reminds the boy of her spirited, severe tongue. And her nicknames…
“You made it.” He was shocked, surprised and wondered how she had managed to get this far. He was about to say his name, but then, he paused and refrained. Wondering if she would recognize his voice. It was different than before, he’d grown some more and his vocals were in the process of reshaping. He hadn’t realized it, but he thought it might be interesting to see her pick up the clues and come to her own conclusion. She was a smart filly anyhow, or so he assumed, as he pulled away from the ancient tree and stood a few feet from her.
“Looks like you were right after all. Looks like the sun god didn’t give a damn.” It was more of statement than an observation. Nearly mocking what she’d said all those months ago, because he’d been confused about her views on the sun god. A part of him was annoyed about that, annoyed with her impartial views, her ridicule of his former self. He wondered if she enjoyed being right.
@Valdís
