Several days have passed, and with them the winter sheds its ugly self from the fields and in the forests. It gives way to warmth. Dawn, so accustomed to the stifling heat of his lands is grateful for this change. He is more than grateful. For there is too much to be happy for, and in all rights he has found a simple kind of paradise in Helovia. It seems false almost; it is not all quite true. There beyond the borders of the Edge, perhaps even within them, the slights that existed before continue to roam unguarded. And this can never change, he thinks, why would it?

The days he spends are often filled with wandering. He travels with the mists, compelled to keep company amongst the fallen clouds wasting across the landscape. The youth feels naked with merely trees to join him. And before the edge where the sharp rock dives forever into the ocean, he fears he might feel the overwhelming desire to jump. It’s too easy… and he was too curious for his own good. So he avoided the cliff side and admired it from a distance, before he would dive back into the mists and keep moving. He couldn’t help it, his legs would hardly settle down. And while the throb in his head had nearly disappeared his head would hurt every so often. A pain that could last for an hour or a mere minute; the world would blur, forcing him to sit down with his head to the ground, eyes clenched shut. It was the only way he’d be able to sleep. Otherwise, his legs would grow restless, his mind overactive and tense. With hot white pain the dreams would take him.

It was in the same way he found rest that day, but awoke before the sun started to rise. Several stars could still be seen, and the distant haze of light barely touched the sky. There was no use trying to go back, in the depth and nothingness of sleep. And with that the charcoal stallion arose another day, thinking that perhaps, he would be guaranteed another few months of life if not more.

He was not afraid of the dark however. It hid things, it kept things, and somehow Dawn felt included inside its domains. A substance, much like the mist, that had drawn itself all over and filled everything within it. Dawn could not be distinguished from what was and wasn’t. Perhaps this was what led him out from the protection of the Edge.

Dawn, an old voice resonates from deep inside. That is a nice name- It is still dark outside, the voices continue; the figure that produces these memories remains a blur. For some reason he longs to see her once more, if only to reassure himself that such things had happened. Or perhaps he is lonely, and beyond his hardened surface he yearns to connect in some way. But he wasn’t sure how, and if he could.

The shadows seem to be moving as he races through the land. Sometimes there are outlines that shift in between trees, bushes, or appear and dissolve into the flat field. The random glow or a light, perhaps eyes or a mere reflection sends a startling, tingling sensation into his limbs that makes him run harder. He starts sprinting into these moving manifestations, a swirl of delight quickly spreads into his limbs for a second time urging him to run faster, run harder!

Dawn, they coo. His name rolls out like a labored sigh. Dry and thirsty.

Dawn. He is running for his life, he is afraid. But it makes him smile just slightly; it makes him laugh inside as he breaks into a forest.

He twists, darting between the moving figurines from tree to tree, while dodging unseen predators. The ground is twisted here, uneven; the youth begins to slow down. But the voices continue their pursuit. Dawn. They sound familiar, they come from one voice, different from the first one he had encountered. The young stallion quickly halts his flight and stands in the quiet of a dark and crowded forest.

He should know that voice and yet, it doesn’t strike him with a name. A name! Dawn. His eyes are wide, they search the depth surrounding him. It no longer thrills him, scares him, the voice is alluring and sweet to the boy. He knew that voice- what was its name?

“He… Here… I’m right here.” The stallion’s voice is supple, soft and careful. But no matter how much he searches for the voice it does not reveal itself to him. This voice that was once nurturing to the boy, beloved.

By now the sun lines the horizon. The sky appears to be bleeding from the east; weak rays barely hit the edges of the trees. Darkness remains, a soft veil.

“I am Dawn!” His voice cracks, it beseeches the voice. It reaches out, and he can’t help but feel his soul lurch out into that statement, hoping to be caught in the arms of something so familiar and safe. There is only silence, and the irritating noise of birds shifting in the background.

His breath heaves, the urgency in his eyes dies out, there is nothing.

Dawn. It is stronger now, vibrates in his whole body. It comes from one direction, his movement is immediate, swift and sharp; the trail of his tail flags away with the ivory silk strand. Many trees pass by Dawn, he fails to recognize the odd gashes that stream past him. There is only one thing on his mind, one task that binds him to that voice.

But he cannot go any further. The water before the fir tree halts Dawn’s chase. There is a moment where time seems to stop as he marvels at it. Though his hazel eyes are quickly drawn to the dark crimson stones underneath. They form red eyes.

Red. His eyes are red. His sooty reflection shifts into a brilliant pure white. He swears the creature, a unicorn with a full horn, is there beside him when it whispers his name. Warm breath and all, before those same eyes rip through the flesh and consume the illusion.

DAWN
stallion of world's edge
i could live in hope