Яikyn

The Tallsun heat had eased into cool nights, and shorter days.  The weary heat that had held me down for months spirals up into a dark expanse, and I let my eyes follow its invisible path as I canter down the silvery curvature of the beach, the absence of stifling summer sun drawing from me a certain restlessness that I can’t ignore.  Overhead, the scant moon casts minimal light across the world, so that the shadows are pitch black, and the beach is pure and obvious.
 
Steady alongside me, the rhythm of the silver ripple of the sea is gentle.  I can’t help but feel the sound lull through me, trying its best to suppress a worry that is over neither the sea, nor the shore, but the fields about it.  This is the least grass I’ve seen about the wilds in all my life, and it makes a dark uneasiness bob and dance inside me.  Duir, only aware that the summer had been more harsh than normal because I’d told him so, has not an ounce of concern lilting through him, except, perhaps, if I planned to run all night.
 
He’d rather doze the evening away in some grove or another, the sort of creature to choose comfort over adventure almost any day of the week.  We differed immensely in this regard, and while I normally catered to the little deer, tonight, we were going to do as I wanted.
 
No sooner do the sheer cliffs of the Edge reveal themselves, however, do I put on the brakes.  A wave of sand rises and arcs out from the impact of my fores, my whole body dancing about so that the land of mist is forced to my back.  A nervous, angry sort of snort resounds through the air, one so sharp and savage that Duir puts on his brakes himself, looking over at me with his forest eyes wide with wonder as to what had gotten into me so suddenly.
 
I don’t say anything for awhile, and even go so far as to simply leave him standing there.  I prowl back down the beach, avoiding the brutalized, damp patches of sand where I’ve already passed, seeking to create new dimpled imperfections.  When I do say something, at last, it’s definitely nothing to do with this foreign anxiety that broils within me at the thought of encroaching on someone else’s borders.  The time before last, I’d almost died, and last time…
 
Last time meant I’d have to go beg at the Moon’s threshold for a place to stay, and not simply go home, if the wilds grew too barren and frigid for me, or my young companion.
 
"New Moon tomorrow," I attempt to distract myself with, looking up at the tiny sliver of light in the heavens, "I wonder if it hurts to disappear time and again like that."
 
The gold struck buck looks up at the twinkling sky and the remnants of the bright, silver orb, before looking back at me, and shaking his head no.

[ Setting:  Mid-evening along the Endless Blue.  The Moon is minimal and the lighting is not the best! ]

in every heart a hole