Umbriel’s emerald eyes, so stark and bright against the black rings around her sunken eye sockets, never wandered from their post along the trail. They were the only bright thing in this darkness. Shades of brilliant spring green flecked them, as well as tiny droplets of amber. Indeed, Umbriel’s eyes and her horn were the only remarkable things about her. The rest of her was drab, ugly, gray—forgettable. So very forgettable. She wondered if her father and mother had already forgotten she existed, forgotten that she came from their loins as surely as her brother did. They would never forget her brother, though. They would never forget how Isomer saved them from exile… and how Umbriel had nearly gotten them killed. It amazed her how much of a difference a horn could make. If she’d never been born with this thing, this horrible obsidian abomination, she would be loved. She would be looked after and played with by all the other horses in her herd. She wouldn’t be here, wandering eternally, half starved because of her stupid hang ups. Umbriel drew a shaky breath and exhaled fully, as if wishing to send all the negative energy within her out with her hot breath. She remembered when her horn had first started to come in. It hurt and made her itch, much like a child’s teething phase. She remembered the horror on her mother’s face, the regret; she remembered the absolute fury on her father’s. Little Brie had been so confused—she was just like her daddy, special, having something that no one else had in the herd. The soft velvet hid her horn’s true ugliness from the world until it had fully grown in. Instinctually she’d known to rub it off like the bucks in the forest did, and once unsheathed, her horn had caused her nothing but trouble since. In her adolescence, the minx had tried several times to break it off, but it was harder than she imagined it would be. Solid bone, solid rock, solid something—all Umbriel knew was that it could not be broken, or dulled. It was still as razor sharp as it had been the very first day. The grulla mare sighed once more, this time truly expelling all the bad thoughts within her. It wouldn’t do to keep thinking like this, not when her concentration was needed elsewhere… like focusing on not being eaten by wild dogs.

Out of the pitch black of the surrounding woods, a figure stepped out before her. Immediately Umbriel paused, back hoof cocked in the walking position but frozen still. She raised her head to meet the looming figure as she slowly set her hoof back onto the dry, dusty trail. Her mouth went dry. The figure in the distance had red eyes and was vaguely shaped like a dog, though it was much too large to be feral. Umbriel sniffed the air. Something almost like blood wafted toward her, the scent was somehow metallic. She couldn’t think about the source of the odd smell for too long, because another larger shadow joined the first ahead of her on the trail. This lunknown was too large to be a dog or wolf, so it must be another horse. Surreptitiously she sniffed the air again, looking for any signs of what—or who—this new stranger could be. She smelled stallion on him, an oppressive masculine scent that immediately sent Briel’s nostrils closing with dislike. Between the two of them, the scent was nearly unbearable—she felt like she was drowning in blood and male. But Umbriel’s curiosity had been aroused, so she took a few tentative steps closer, close enough to see that it was indeed a metal dog like creature and another unicorn, like her. It was only the second time in her life that she’d seen another of her kind, and she found her initial dislike of him fading away into neutrality. He ruined that somewhat when he opened his mouth, however. “You look like shit,” the strange stallion said, his deep voice devoid of all emotion.

“And you look like a rhinoceros.”

It was a knee jerk reaction, one she’d probably regret later. But in her defense, he did look at least vaguely rhinoceros-like. Umbriel referred to the dual horns on his head, something that she’d never thought could exist. However, her unicorn experience was rather limited. Maybe she was the freak for not having two horns. Umbriel wasn’t sure. The stallion spoke again. “Unfortunately, the Sun God is spinning the world into a desert, but I know where fields are where you can eat.” Umbriel’s stomach rumbled at his words. She’d almost forgotten her hunger. How could she tell him she could not eat? And what in the world was a Sun God?

“Our kind can eat freely here?”

Umbriel’s mouth worked without her consent. Internally berating herself for sounding so naïve, she realized she was genuinely curious about where these fields were. Were they brown and dead, as was the grass she’d had to eat a home? Umbriel felt woefully unworldly and young, but it was not her fault she had no experience with the way the rest of the world worked. She felt anger rising in her heart again. Damn her parents. Damn her brother. Damn her herd for never letting her out of her forced segregation.

umbriel«

»your skin and bones turn into something beautiful.