Nothing is ever certain (Part 1)

Pain blossoms, darkening tender skin where that punishing mouth left unchecked imprints upon my upper nape. Soggy wrinkles react, contorting, bracing against that forgotten sensation of needling incisors. There was naught for me to do but embrace the fever she rides, surrender to her damnation...unlike the smog infused darkness (which was unworthy of compassion)... my core, the deeply grounded soul, readily acknowledges her fury. It greets hatred with tender acceptance; limitless mercy. When at last she jerks away; these sun-dipped hollows retract and permit her swift retreat. Limply, they fold backwards – loosely held against their dripping shelter. Lungs gasp, relieved of the pressure they'd been forced to endure. Hindquarters straighten, their pillars tremble with fatigue, but they support me regardless. Irises elevate, lashes unhinge and reveal the sharp, bloodied gold from its cocoon. Grief is potent...deadly...she cowers behind her despair; wielding it like a weapon when provoked...and a shield when pressed. Saturated ears remain posted toward the rear; wary of her shifting mood...and that of our invisible audience.   Her questions -nay, desperation- flies hither like the sting of a lash! Provoking internal conflict as another wave of dismay crashes upon me, 'would she bear the weight of an explanation?' Did it even matter now? Innards bristle in response; their desire for life isn't so complacent as my acceptance for whatever she chose to do next. Still panting, catching up. Quiet attention shifts, redirecting itself behind me. To that kaleidoscope silhouette. It was still there (of course) – shimmering, rippling like the waves of heat hovering above a brittle, sandstone floor in the desert. “That,” brows narrow, “I entered it.” Images flash by, a decaying world...a corpse of unimaginable proportion lay just beyond it...or so tis assumed. “Father Earth is gone…” the briefest flutter of concern flutters against my expression. He (same as the other deities) hadn’t simply lost his life – nay, he vanished. Divine presence, guidance and power has forever been snuffed from existence. “You…” I pause, debating for half a beat before deciding to deliver that additional tidbit of information, "nor your siblings," a weary, torn become the essence of what remainds, “were in the clearing at the end of the path,” irises rotate center, “but neither were you living among the ashes of destruction.” Brows pinch, “I had to see.” Hindquarters flex, anticipation builds in my loins, “but... something happened when I entered..." Memories fail to provide key information, their aid is bleak and without the picture, I'm unable to form a clear story. My left, painted foreleg elevates; revealing the soiled metallic gilt “Nar," it incomprehensible (especially to me,) unexplainable, “I woke up here...alive.” In this wicked place. "You...and this…” words fade off, optics scan the curling smoke in the near distance. “What…is this place?” an elder word escapes, a word for describing hell itself, “Na’ar?”

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