The sun filtered winsomely through leafy canopies above. Dappled brown earth stretched out between trunks of massive trees and blinded little saplings. Here and there in the canopy enough of a gap existed to let a whole flooding pool of golden sun fall onto the forest floor, creating oases in which fresh green life was brimming. A tree had fallen in one such pool, probably the cause of many, weighed down some years ago by ice or slain by wind or storm. The ancient gray trunk was now softened by time and thaw. Around it early buds of primroses (pale green pods full of unborn sunlight), and young creeping ferns had pushed up above the ground, along with a few thin-stalked tree-babies, with no leaves yet to identify them.
Within this patch of gold sun and green spring lay the little filly this morning, alone. Lounging with her head on an Artist’s Conk and her legs spread out on the carpet of young green plants. Her pale, metallic coat glittered in the light that fell upon her. The thin strands of her mane like liquid gold against the faded gray of tree and fungus were spread in haphazard disarray. She had been hard to notice before the sun came up; she was very still. Her shimmering, pale flaxen hide was almost the same colour as morning sunlight and – lounged as she was on the east-side of this log in the direct light it was just possible to imagine that she had fallen through the canopy with the dawn. The horn on her forehead glittered very faintly; pale almost translucent gold. The picture stayed this way, static and waiting, for one long, slow minute before the stillness was broken by a rustling, hopping rodent that stole across the ground in search of snacks.
Then, as the sun dragged itself higher into the sky, as the light grew warmer and less ephemeral and the slant of the rays changed through the canopy above, Alayaya stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open (a little too dramatically to be believable) and she stretched her legs, rustling the leafy floor. She didn’t quite disturb the nearby chipmunk turning over leaves to look for snacks. He kept her in his eyeline, but his busy hands kept digging. Lifting her head sleepily she looked around her, stretching her neck so she could peek over the back of the log, though not apparently expecting to see anything. She seemed supremely unconcerned about being alone. Silly creature – have you been alone since you fell asleep? There certainly wasn’t any sign of others nearby. Suddenly, ear swivelling first, her attention turned toward the sound of rustling leaves; she whipped her head around to find the little scurrying creature on the ground. With a grin she climbed to her feet – and the movement looked a little too fluid, too graceful for her age and the enthusiasm she suddenly emanated. The chipmunk did pause now, considering her with tail twitching, and as she made a tiny step forward, head down, ears forward, he ran – and so did she; exuberance and bright young energy in a bounding playful agility. The chipmunk scurried across the cleared earth floor of the forest a few dozen yards, the filly in hot pursuit, before it leapt up the trunk of a wide old tree and spiralled upward. Coming to an abrupt and unceremonious halt at the base of the tree she reared up, planting her forefeet against the trunk and peering upward at the boughs above. Her blue eyes followed the progress of the little brown rodent, head weaving as he did through the branches. Above her head about forty feet he made a leap to the next tree and she, craning her neck backward to keep him in view, overbalanced, flailed with a squeal and fell backward.
With a snort she rolled over and climbed to her feet again. Then she was off – racing under the branches overhead, leaping from patch of sunlight to patch of sunlight, never lingering long in the shadows. Did she know where she was going? It was hard to say… she weaved in several directions as she ran, but overall she moved forward into the Threshold. Suddenly, she turned at 90 degrees and pelted at full speed along an alley of elms just awakening from their long winter slumber, emerging in a few moments under the bright, cloudless blue sky in a wide clearing. Grass grew up to her ankles here, with forget-me-nots adding splashes of early blue to the meadow. She ran with a lilting, carefree grace about a dozen steps, a shriek of delight trailing after her like gossamer and promise as she ran. She flung herself down onto the ground and rolled in the blue flowers, giggling.
Practically purring she waited there, flopped on her side in the sun, expectant.
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[Open] Demain, dès l’aube, je partirai.
