Zahra, Ilham, and Hanna

It was pride that turned angels into devils

“But…” you beg, plead, voice trembling and lungs gasping for air enough to fuel this mindless journey into the north – Bird upon you, brings welcome warmth and closeness. The pale-grey face which has always brought you so much comfort, kindness and love, is wrought with pain, festering anger… it is not your mother who leads you now. This mare’s heart is wounded beyond repair, her soul has been destroyed and all that remains of the life that once was, is frayed skin and maddened sense. You are terrified, Bird is too, and you cry bitterly as the icy wind stings your raw, reddened eyes. You have no other choice but to follow (where else would you be if not by her side?), hunger growls fiercely between your ribs again and instinct drives you on - you must drink, must - though the effort is quite in vain. The trauma of this season has brought an abrupt end to her supply, her life giving milk has dried up entirely – but your mind is still immature, you cannot understand this sudden, new resistance.

“Where we goin’?” …you try again, and the chill blowing off the mountains ahead of you forces you to hunch lower. You are cold, missing desperately that loving caress - without your father’s for longer than you can bear to remember. Mounting loneliness frightens you, and the grip of both upon you tightens, slows you, hinders your struggle as you strain to keep your mother in view ahead. She is stumbling so quickly though now, it is like she has forgotten - she has - she cannot find that love which bound you together because she is damaged, ruined. She is upwind and you can hear the frailty of each sob, the crude emotion spewing like lava through every pore of her being. Her agony confuses you, it is devastating – but you are far too young to comprehend the level of her loss. It has been a life of torture, a burden she and your father have always protected you from.

Rocks litter the ground all around you, and though the haze of tears, it is difficult for you to see any safe passage between. Your tiny hooves trip and stagger as the terrain rolls beneath your nervous tread – you have never ventured this way, know nothing of snow or ice. “Ma, wait!” you bleat helplessly as her flames vanish into a field of blinding white.

Your knees stiffen and stop. You throw you chin to the sky - “Da…” you sob - tears thickening as they pour pure, liquid heartache from your soul. “Why did you have to go…” Like a snowball effect, the world began to fall apart around you the moment he left. You cry bitterly for all of the hurt your mother suffers, for the ache you are feeling, for the destruction of everything you have ever known. Bird slides warmth against your quivering spine, and your lips fall heavily backwards to find comfort in her thick pallid coat. “Why is this happening?” … her rough tongue sweeps tenderly the frozen stream from the nearest of your cheeks, and she whimpers, touched by the same confusion - twin sorrow. She is all you have left.

Perhaps…

You draw a full breath from the milder air beneath the young Kitsune’s fur and bristle. You need to find your mother, to remind her that there is hope – that she has you, and Bird as well. You love her, and that is enough. You had a dream only nights ago, and the message imparted in it fills you with conviction, hope – though it still holds little meaning really, you draw courage from it enough to continue. He would not have you give up, ever.

“Ma!” your feeble frame hurls into the wind, “Ma! Ma!… Wait!”

Only the moan of the mountain answers, so you delve deeper into its midst, and Bird cowers closer – you are not alone, you can do this. Your fine ears flick backwards and forwards as the wind pummels you, hoping always for any trace, the smallest hint of your mother ahead. But it seems she is too distracted and has not noticed you are missing. Though your immature ego is hurt by this realisation, you do not let it deter you,and thin legs drag you determinedly across a new wintry wasteland. Golden eyes peer left and right, and you cannot help but feel intimidated, overwhelmed by the vastness of this place – there is just so much more than the sanctuary of your home (that was your home). “Ma!” Your small voice rings through the open - Bird barks as loudly as she can too, and her effort encourages this desperate mission that you refuse to abort.

There is a concealed entrance nearby - and little do you realise it is for this your stricken mother is searching. She is close, just beyond reach. It is only when you stumble across blood-stained snow that you realise she is there. The wing she carries was broken, you remember - you saw it - and your eyes fight the rising vision of jutting bone and crimson feathers that had accompanied your last reunion. Your sight grows vague, your stomach woozy, and you trip over a part buried rock. It protrudes from slush with a sharp tip and this slices your fetlock as you fall heavily across your already grazed knees. Golden blood bubbles slowly from both – leaks from the gash upon your leg, and Bird’s cold nose is suddenly upon it (she has slipped from your back to come to your aide). The pup licks your wound with all of the love shown by your mother when she had cleaned your sticky coat, for the very first time.

Those days, that peace, it all feels like a lifetime ago now…