Megaera

"There's a reckoning a-coming
and it burns beyond the grave
its lead inside my belly
cause my soul has lost its way
Oh, Lazarus
How did your debts get paid
Oh, Lazarus
Why you're so afraid

When the fires
when the fires have surrounded you
with the hounds of hell coming after you
I've got blood, I've got blood
blood on my name"

Sunset in the desert was always beautiful, but this night the full flush of birdsong life and a cloudless sky gave it a special magnificence. Fingers of light stretched from the most Beloved Sun, reaching, caressing, to light the landscape on fire. The whole of the oasis seemed to burst with the warmth of the ethereal glow and all was hushed in reverence of the perfect picture. All except one. Thump thump thump thump thump thump. Pause. Thump thump thump. Pause. Thump thump thump thump thump. Pause. Megaera paced at the foot of the great Dragon’s Blood tree. So agitated was she that even her pacing could not find a steady rhythm. She would walk a few feet, pause, turn and go the other way and turn again, all the while moving about a small object that seemed to be both the center of her pacing and its chief interruption. She would pick it up, carry it for a while, and put it down again. She would turn it. Shift it. Kick it. Ignore it. All in a cycle that repeated to no discernable pattern. It seemed to flash when it caught the light, the bleached white surface of a bone in stark contrast with the torn and tattered black strip of cloth that dangled from it.

Until the previous day, both bone and ribbon had been tied tightly into the mare’s mane. There they had rested, nearly forgotten about for two and a half years, half of the young mare’s life until, in the heart of the Deep Forest she had caught them on a branch in a particularly thing bit of bramble and they had been torn free. She remembered pausing to consider leaving the small trinket behind but in that moment the sight of the seemingly insignificant memento had flooded Megaera with the memories of how she’d gotten it, of who she’d taken it from. So she’d brought it back here, hoping the safety of home would give her the peace of mind to decide. She had been sorely disappointed. And she paced, as she had been doing for hours, while waves of turmoil wracked her insides.

The bone hadn’t been clean and white when she had taken it…. It had been bloody and sharp, still clinging to a bit of skin and shaggy brown fur that matched the color of Megaera’s own hide to a striking degree. She remembered it only if flashes, brief glimpses that the trauma of the event allowed her to recall of what she had seen and done. He had goaded her, tortured her again and again with words even if he had never struck her himself (his sons, her brothers, had done enough of that). She was small, he said, and stupid and useless and alone, he said. Her mother was a whore who left her without a thought, he said, because she was ugly and stupid and small, he said. She should thank him, he said, for protecting her and raising her, for allowing her to live, he said. The filly had killed him. He had been getting old, else she, at two and a half years old, could never have taken him. Old and alone and so convinced that his daughter was weak and stupid an worthless that he had turned his back after that final sermon and never dreamed that she would strike him. She had. Again and again, even after the life she had smashed two hooves into his crushed face and she wailed and screamed with tears and rage. And she had taken a piece as a trophy, a badge, and left the country of her birth.

It had been easy to push those memories aside, to forget in light of everything that had happened in the time since she had first come to Helovia, even with this trophy hanging just out of her own sight. She had found a home here, been accepted and befriended and grown into a warrior of Dragons Throat. This morning, she had come back in hopes that it would calm her, but she had never felt more out of place. This desert, the oasis, the fire, Africa, Alina, and Hector, had all held her, helped her, And Gaucho, he more than any. He was her commander and savior, a mix of father and friend and kindred spirit who had accepted and forgiven her, but she had never told him this. Now that she was here, the little warrior felt small again. Small and soiled, like she would infect this beautiful place. When she had come here her heart had bet bitter and angry and suspicious, and here it had felt a warmth she had never thought to look for, but she surely didn’t deserve it.

She wanted to think she had changed and grown since then, that she wasn’t the same Meg who had crossed the Threshold. But she had kept the bone, hadn’t she? Even if had lain small and un-thought of she had still kept it close, and didn’t that mean she didn’t deserve this home? She was a murderer. How could she hope to guard her family against evil if that’s what she was? No matter her motive, when the rage and grief had cleared, she had had to call wheat she had done murder. To keep it was to hold on to anger, to hold a trophy was to boast of being a killer and a coward. That’s what she had done. You’re better than that now. the thought was true and good and precious but it seemed to be fighting a losing battle against grief and self-doubt. She had to keep it. Couldn’t let it go, Wouldn’t let it go…

NO! The spark kindled deep inside the little warriors heart and she fed it depreastly, willing it to spread. Meg had stopped her pacing, and stood rigid, glaring at the white gleam bone of bone on the ground before her. The sun had sunk beneath the horizon now and the spot beneath the Dragons tree was lit only by a hazy twilight and the western sky glowed a deep pink. Meg stood there, outwardly frozen but fighting fiercely with herself to build up her resolve. She was good, and her mind worked to believe it. Whatever she had done was over, was past. She could let go, move forward and her herd would be there. She would protect them and they could protect her.

She was Megaera. Warrior of Dragon’s Throat. Servant of the Sun. Daughter of Fire.

With a yell the mare reared, pawing fiercely at the air, and her black hooves came crashing down and a small shard of white that shattered, and suddenly it was day again. The light of the sun shone on the Oasis and did not come from the western sky but from Megaera. She gave light, was light. It engulfed her, illuminated all around her, and shot into the darkening sky, a pillar of light that must have shone for miles. The light lasted only two or three seconds before it diminished, shank and withdrew into the little brown mare that stood underneath the tree.

- - -

WC: 1271
Lyrics: “Blood on my Name” –The Brothers Bright
Notes: BAM! Sunlight!! You’ll have the excuse the monstrous length, but ya know, emotions and backstory, etc. NO need to match, I sure as heck won’t xD. Anywho, anyone is welcome to join!
Tags: @[Gaucho] - @[Voodoo]

faithful like a soldier