Nothing is ever certain (Part 1)

Mayhaps gladdened with the heated change of mood, our neon spectators become lively. Encouraging us with their sick delight; adoring the turmoil and anguish of our continual misfortune. Onyx ears rotate, meshing within the seething curl of flattened thatch. They sense the oncoming storm of apprehension as it escalates. Untamed hate drips venom from that coal stained mouth, accenting the furious bolts of lightening that crack...igniting a crazed pyre. Demons snarl behind those molten eyes. Hindquarters respond intuitively, becoming stone-like; her triggering words signal my defensive stance just before the bitter expression of grief contorts into something nasty. Wounded despair morphs into that expectant rage; the very thing I’d bet against. A flash of hardened resolve douses my subconscious with instinctually desire – defend – self preservation pleads within this rain beaten skull. Honey tipped pinions strain weakly from their alien sheath. She comes in -- a cold burst of color and rain. Hindlegs contract, bundling inward to absorb the force of her impact. Shoulders brace just as the first wave of hot meat come slamming home. This crown tucks, naturally attempting to shield the fragile pulse beneath my latch. Her metallic collar beats solidly into my chest, summoning a painful spasm to rocket outward. Ivories clench, failing to drown the agonized groan that she wrenches from my aching gut. Gold stained feathers crawl their way up and forward to embrace the lash of uncoiled fury. One painted forelimb rises, (swift with intent) aiming my bony knee into that well-known juncture, the camouflaged gem which could relieve the cruel metal between us. Neck muscles jerk my head upward, abandoning thought toward defense – displaying vulnerability without retaliation. Allowing her to rape whatever mark she chose. Gold stained irises roll behind the shield of my eyelids. Hindtoes sink, pushing into the mud gradually as the weight of her impact wears on my ability to stay erect. Lips slip apart -- gasping. Deliberately, my crown tilts near the coiled, damp contours of her neck and mane. Using what little energy afforded me…I strive to drive this frantic tornado closer. “Z-zahra…” her name emits from my anguished core as it wheezes, begging for another frantic draw of air. “Tis alright.” Those sun-stained corners burn as the dam of unshed tears bulge and scream; their sensation and the solid tightness in my chest feels strange...heavy, "I'm..." rasping, straining, "s-so glad." Eyelids pinch...her skin...it felt alive, trembling and warm...a beautiful miracle. Even when stained with fury, "I got to see you again."

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