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A S H A M I N
on his own
on his own
Since venturing North Ashamin had discovered more than a few new things. The night sky had been the first thing to take him by surprise; now, in the daylight, he wandered Northeast and kept his eyes on the earth. The steppe he traversed was full of a wild and familiar chill that he relished in. With every breeze came a reminder of home and a twinge of joy mixed with sorrow. It was strange to feel both at once, but something he found himself feeling nonetheless. What was it called, that odd admixture?
The buck stepped heavily as he contemplated this. Ashamin watched with innocent pleasure as he made little heart-shaped marks in the snow if he pranced, took pleasure in the parallel lines he left behind when he dragged himself along instead. There was a neatness to his trail that was distracting, and if that was all he could think of he could perhaps forget his troubles for a time. His tail stirred the frigid dust and his eyes, black and deep, reflected a mode of intense concentration. He paid attention to the pebbles and the chips of ice, he listened to the wind as it whipped bitterly across the land and buffeted his chest.
And then, over the hill, the ocean arrived and Ashamin found himself being carried forward in a rush on churning legs. The water was something he'd never seen before in such a large mass. He galloped towards the ocean, taking in its every quiver and detail as he drew nearer. There was a thrill in looking out and seeing nothing beyond the sea of greyish-blue, an energy he felt rush into him like the foam on the shore. The waves in this cold land were soft ripples, bobbing floes to and fro and hosting a variety of whirling, cold-weather gulls. Ashamin only forced himself to halt when the water was just a few feet away; he careened and jolted, stumbling back when he realized the shock he'd almost given himself. What a land this was--he thought with the pride of a new native--with its wide frozen oceans and bright, painted skies--with magic, with constant ...company.
It suddenly dawned on the young stallion that once again, as beautiful as the surroundings were, he was alone. Alone for once, after three years of companionship. Grieving, alone, and bitterly afraid.
Overhead, the gulls whirled and cawed to each other endlessly.
_______________
And the gulls,
whirled above
as his heart
fell into
its pit
[[For Einarr; Edited to add a brief poem that I had sudden muse for.]]
The buck stepped heavily as he contemplated this. Ashamin watched with innocent pleasure as he made little heart-shaped marks in the snow if he pranced, took pleasure in the parallel lines he left behind when he dragged himself along instead. There was a neatness to his trail that was distracting, and if that was all he could think of he could perhaps forget his troubles for a time. His tail stirred the frigid dust and his eyes, black and deep, reflected a mode of intense concentration. He paid attention to the pebbles and the chips of ice, he listened to the wind as it whipped bitterly across the land and buffeted his chest.
And then, over the hill, the ocean arrived and Ashamin found himself being carried forward in a rush on churning legs. The water was something he'd never seen before in such a large mass. He galloped towards the ocean, taking in its every quiver and detail as he drew nearer. There was a thrill in looking out and seeing nothing beyond the sea of greyish-blue, an energy he felt rush into him like the foam on the shore. The waves in this cold land were soft ripples, bobbing floes to and fro and hosting a variety of whirling, cold-weather gulls. Ashamin only forced himself to halt when the water was just a few feet away; he careened and jolted, stumbling back when he realized the shock he'd almost given himself. What a land this was--he thought with the pride of a new native--with its wide frozen oceans and bright, painted skies--with magic, with constant ...company.
It suddenly dawned on the young stallion that once again, as beautiful as the surroundings were, he was alone. Alone for once, after three years of companionship. Grieving, alone, and bitterly afraid.
Overhead, the gulls whirled and cawed to each other endlessly.
And the gulls,
whirled above
as his heart
fell into
its pit
[[For Einarr; Edited to add a brief poem that I had sudden muse for.]]
See Ashamin's profile for more information about Lochan, Rakt, and his various items.
All magic and force allowed, barring death and permanent injury.
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