The pain. It was so intense. How much of the world was I missing? How much could I not feel as I lay here with my legs screaming in agony? I could hear wings. I could hear the air as it swooshed around but never came close to me. Should I scream? Should I beg for someone to come and help me?

I open my mouth, take in a deep breath, and then go to scream. To beg, to plead, to cry, to hope that someone might hear me and come to help – but the air doesn’t do anything except cross over my vocal chords. No soprano chords filter into the air, no broken remnants of syllables and consonants are allowed to cut the silence as if they were knives. I am hollowed and gagged by the inhalation of the dry air as it continues to scratch at my lungs. The dust that I am inhaling emanating from the scorched ruins which I have laid myself down upon in hopes of a refuge from the pain that is circulating through my legs and across my barrel and chest.

And I go to call out again, but pain is all that happens. Again, no words can be formed, only air passing over my chords as I struggle to find a way to gather someone’s attention. Perhaps if I got up? Perhaps if I kicked out at the dead tree and knocked it over? No. Too much pain. Laying down was going to be all I could accomplish even if I did possess the energy to continue to fight for my life. The battle that I had needed to forgo in order to even get to this location was immense. The radiating pain and the blank world were all that I knew for the moment. They were blocking out memories and thoughts. They were blocking out my view of the world.

But then, I wasn’t alone anymore! It seemed as though my silent pleas had actually been heard. I could hear the sound of hooves as they beat upon the ground. I could feel the ripples as they sent jolting, torturous pains through my limbs, twisting and pinching my nerves so that I could only wish it would all stop. My eyes squeezed shut and my mouth opened to scream ”STOP! JUST STOP MOVING!” at the world that wouldn’t listen. And again, my voice didn’t come out. I could feel the chords vibrating, though, and this time a low groan in shattered soprano chords as I shifted my weight and leaned up against the tree and felt it scratch against my unscathed back.

A voice, was it really a voice? I was probably hallucinating. I had to be. Who else would stumble across a dying mare’s form in a forest just as she had given up on life. Perhaps this was a sign that I should continue on. But, as I opened my eyes I tried to force myself to feel the vibrations. My maw, clinging to the ground as I breathed against the dirt, feeling it spray out a few feet in front of me. And, as I pressed my maw into the ground I allowed myself to feel most of the vibrations that way. What I had heard was not a lie. A winged one and a dog was not but ten feet away from where I lay.

Cirrus. From the Throat. She can help? She moved in closer, I could feel through pained limbs how slowly she was inching in toward my side. Something felt different, but what I wasn’t quite sure. The pain, it was dulling slowly. ”H-How?” I croaked out, voice so much harsher and lower than my usual silken speech. ”I-I-I” I paused, taking in air as I filled my scratched lungs up enough to speak, ”I’m R-Rasta. P-P-Please, just h-h-help.” My voice felt alien as it cooed out from my maw into the burnt air around the three of us. But, I no longer cared. If she could heal me, that was all I needed. I wanted to go home. I wanted to forget this venture. I wanted to find a way to be whole again.