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The adult’s discourse is barely noticed through his gasps, and shudders. Their glares and scowls rest above him, and all Saoirse can sense is the slight unease exchanged between them. A tightening of muscles, a constricting tone.
The body next to him is strangely comforting however. Despite how little he knew of the unicorn, or how ironic it was that he might be able to place any faith or trust in him. The warmth despite the bony prominences permeates past his pain. Closing his eyes when the black, velvety muzzle hovers above him. Warm breath that pushes the coolness that came with the mud stained against Saoirse’s left side, or the stink that follows it.
He mentions shelter and grove. The boy opens his eyes lazily to glance up. The boy’s mind is too frayed to wonder why they can’t just follow the other colts to the Throat. But perhaps he can’t make the journey like they can? In any case Saoirse’s thoughts are muddled, shuddering under the bodiless voice of Kaos; who could strike out at any second, if he felt like it.
Green eyes continue to stare at the stallion when he attempts to smile; the boy remains motionless. Holding back his voice, for fear of sobbing out. However finds pressed that he must answer somehow, when the stallion gestures his chin. And makes a few small nods.
Uncertain how far he can walk, or how much pain awaits their departure.
Saoirse looses track of the kind mare. And feels almost lost without her experienced voice, or gestures of warmth that leave him as quickly as she has fled. When she returns he allows her to take his wing, despite wincing from the movement – and fighting against the desire to guard it. Strange, to have the pulp rest against the thin layer of skin and feathers.
But he tries his best to listen to her words; her gaze has narrowed upon him, and she makes it clear what they must do. It reminds him of his mother, a healer as well.
He finally finds his voice, offering a nervous smile. “A-alright.”
The boy tilts his head at the old stallion’s retort. Confused by the accusation – doesn’t understand its harshness, or its purpose. The boy makes a quick interjection, as if feeling the need to come between them for the sake of pressing their angry tones away.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean… Please be safe.”
What if the monster began to rampage across the lands? What if no one could stop it? He balks and seems to grow pale; unable to imagine the thought of losing anyone.
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[O] SWP :: The beginning of something new entirely
