horus tarkus

History, despite it's wrenching pain, cannot be unlived,

but if faced with courage,

The wary stallion watched as Hector preened himself, lightly tugging at a feather from his added limb. Horus couldn’t help but cringe just slightly as the offending digit (if one could call it such a thing) came loose and was left to float to the ground. He fathomed that such a feat hurt, at least a little, though the large stallion before him gave no indication of any discomfort at the removal. In fact, Hector seemed to let forth a sigh of relief. He shifted on his pillars, remembering the feeling of having burs stuck beneath his hooves, up against his softest bits, in places he could never get. He imagined having to pluck a feather like that caused equally as much discomfort, so in essence, perhaps it was much more satisfying to remove the feather than to let it continue to disturb him; after all, birds plucked feathers all the time. It was a foreign concept, the wings in general. The horns, perhaps, Horus could get used to easily, the strange markings more so, but the wings… He brushed off the thought, pricking forth his audits as the stud began to speak once more, mentioning a water source, and offering to expound upon the herd he had mentioned earlier.

A brilliant interest gleamed in the stallion’s blue eyes at the thought of learning, if only just a very brief segment, of the Dragon’s Throat herd’s history. His thirst for knowledge and his hunger for the past lead him to eagerly nod his head. “Yes, of course; lead the way.” Then, a very strange thing occurred. Hector seemed to give some minor indication (or perhaps he had not and Horus was letting the logic in his mind place an action that was not there to help him make sense of what he was seeing) and suddenly there bounded forth some small  horses, as if they suddenly came to life in front of them. If that were not the strange part, it would have been that these creatures were birthed entirely from flame.  Horus took a few steps back, startled at the sudden creation of this kind of life. The stallion paused, examining the tiny fire colts at a distance. They seemed to dance, their flames flickering and leaving ember trails in the air as they moved. Horus felt himself being drawn forward, cautiously lifting his pillars as he pulled himself closer to the spectacle in front of him. He must have looked a right sight, with his head hung low, in a sort of mockery of a stalking position, akin to an unbalanced wild cat. As the white blaze across his face reflected the soft orange light, he felt true heat come from these beasts. If he had any reservations as to whether or not this magic held true fire to them, he had none of them now. Just as he was getting close enough to feel the twinge of his whiskers feeling the shock of singe, Hector snuffed them out. The effect was startling, if not more so than when they had been sprung to life. The absence of light plunged his senses into darkness and the sudden onslaught of smoke into his nares forced the stallion to pull back forcefully. His front pillars came back off the ground in fright, causing the rest of his body to shock back a foot as he pulled away. The whole sight must have been quite entertaining for Hector, even if he did not comment on it.

As they continued to advance, Horus was delighted to see that the stream he had been listening for was not far off from where they had been. The dense collection of trees and undergrowth acted as a plush green barrier, nearly sound-proofing the water source until you were almost upon it, hearing the flow only seconds before sighting it. It was here, as they approached their destination that Hector ventured to ask what brought this strange stallion to his land. Horus stepped forward to the stream, lowering his cranium and drinking deeply from the chilled liquid, letting the icy fingers lurking within caress the inner workings of his being. He paused, letting his thoughts gather. What would he tell this stallion? What could he say that would not be offensive? He hadn’t expected any of this to be real, and he certainly did not want to insult his gracious host. It seemed like Horus mulled the question over for a long time before responding.

“To be quite honest with you, Hector, it’s an odd story. Please forgive me for any ignorance or lack of grace in my social etiquette as I tell you this; the whole evening has been much more than I anticipated.” Horus shifted on his pillars, his banner swaying behind him as he took a deep breath to recant his journey to the stallion he may soon be fortunate enough to call friend, if not also herd-mate.

“I grew up in a land outside of Helovia, but that much you’ve probably found to be clear. I made my home with a nomadic herd, and we chased the seasons of spring and summer, following the path that our ancestors mapped before us to keep the good weather. Our folk were never made to last well through the harsh winters, and before our herd dedicated themselves to this path, we would lose many of our young and old to the terrible conditions. At least, that is our history according to our Shaman. She is,” It is here in his tale that he paused, thinking deeply about how to describe this mare, who meant so much to him.   “She is the wisest of our herd, and a collector of our history, as well as the histories of other places. She has the most incredible sense of humor, and light, and wonder, and she instills this in our children. At the very least, she instilled it in me. It is from her that I grew up listening to the stories of your land, of a place where fantastic things happened, of beasts with wings, and horses who bore the spirals that indicated their rank across their faces. Some of these things I’m not sure are true, and to be fair and honest with you, I didn’t believe her. I always felt that her stories were just that; stories to placate the young ones when their parents needed to know exactly where they were and what they were doing, knowing they would be safe. But it is from spending so much time with her that I cultivated a love for history, and when I had grown old enough to be able to tell the story of my herd forwards and backwards, of each individual we had, I felt the pull to something different. I’m not sure why it was Helovia that my mind chose, though I try to logic it to be a quest to find out the truth. After all, I had many friends who wandered across the bridge to your realm, and the thought of knowing what truly happened to them found itself buried into my skull as a comfort.  I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, given all of the things I was told as a young colt, and to be fair I don’t remember most of it, though I can tell you I remember the impression it left me with was tall tales.” Horus chuckled. “As you can clearly see, this is all quit new to me, and if there are many more like you within Helovia, I think it may take me some getting used to. But that,” He let out a long breath, “Is how I came to be within your realm, Hector. As humble a beginning as I could have, I suppose.”

The stallion shifted again upon his pillars, watching the stud before him for any signs of distress, or interest. He wanted to gauge what this noble warrior thought of him before he dared to ask questions regarding what this land was like. He was hoping that he had not been too cruel to his interpretation of Helovia, and that he would not be thought daft for not knowing much, or for his former lack of belief. And if he was honest with himself, there was still a lack of belief, that perhaps he had fallen asleep in that clearing and that this was all some incredible dream.

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Word Count :: 1409
Muse :: Fairly good
Notes :: Sorry this is so late! I started writing it and then fell asleep, and yesterday was my birthday so I didn’t have time to sit down at all. I hope you like it and forgive me! ^.^;

"Talk."