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»› C A S S I U S ‹«
His feet do not stop at the edges of the Basin. They break free from the nestled borders of the mountains, slip through the narrow passages, until his gaze settles on another treacherous path ahead. This one is narrower than the others, this one – he knows very little about. He could turn away and travel it with a companion. The thick mists roll on, obscuring the trail by only a few meters – heightening the stallion’s senses. Despite stalling to enter the unknown path, there is a part of him that would prefer to flee and return upon a later date.
Though there is another element of desire that wishes to tug him through the murky road. The feeling of abandon that awaits on the other side, discovery, perhaps perils that he will never know unless he tries.
It is the same voice that has beckoned him before. That gives rise to the gentle wave of thought, pulling, yielding the tsunami that leads desire to thought – and from thought to action. Tethered by the unknown, a victim to its reckless nature; for some reason it provides an opportunity of sorts. Closure, that combines and threads before him in these things that are unknown. That he feels entrap him, displacing him in a place that does not know his name at all.
Breathing in the wet, dense air, his limbs power him forwards. There are no ghosts that greet him, there are no faces – as they rear in the night – to remind him of their tone or scent. The land is entirely new, despite its old and weary age.
The sun breaks through, suddenly unveiled, blazing atop a clear and endless canopy. These lands are wet, but the greenery is vivid and alive. With heavy breathes, Cassius picks up his pace.
If only he had wings, he would roar out into the air with a sonorous cry. He remains silent however, despite the beating of his hooves that flail out into the open. The flag of his leonine tail shimmering behind him, the silver pale crown held high as his chest embraced the cool air with long and loving breaths.
It was as if Imogen’s spirit arose, and danced beside him then.
The stallion finally settled in the middle of the flat lands. Warm from his misadventures, a laugh settling in his cordial voice. A small, subtle smile turns the edges of his lips upwards, as he settles his gaze upon the sky.
“I beg of you.” He murmurs, “That I might have your blessings. Dearest parents, dearest friend.”
He imparts with a fool’s errand. Searching the sky for a reply that will not make the distance in time.
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