The night is solid black; the moon is new and has left him wandering alone. Now and then he peers up at the sky, disappointed each and every time, but he keeps on going. The gypsy walks at a casual pace, holding his bicolored skull low and scouring the terrain before him with pale blue globes. He does not stumble, he floats like a dancer, smoothly covering ground and going ever deeper into the forest. Nares flare wide, inhaling the many foreign scents of this land; not as spicy or sweet as the lands he has just left, but with their own charm. His wandering soul is what brought him here, the fire burning inside him, urging him to go on, not knowing where to find what his heart desires, but determined to get there.
A small pond glistens before him, reflecting the stars in the sky that peer through a hole in the dense canopy above. He halts there, glancing into the depths, but seeing nothing but his romani self, staring back. Solitude has been consuming him for too long, his heart is dusty and cold, and in that moment he longs for the family that he has left behind. What glances back at him is his own face, but it looks almost like a stranger. He has grown older, but he is still young, beautiful even. The eyes that rest in his face are very expressive, they often smile, but they haven’ for a while. Plunging his pink mug into the water, he shatters his image and quenches his thirst in the cooling liquid.
Raising his head, small droplets fall from his muzzle, dripping onto the dry soil underhoof. A humming forms in his chest, the chickadees singing their lungs out, a couple of fireflies circling around him aimlessly. Otherwise, the forest lies asleep around him, though it has been disturbed by his presence. The gypsy figures that it will not take long for one of its children to approach, hopefully one of the right intentions. The scars on his hide witness where he has been driven away, where he wasn’t welcome and where he was called a fool. He will be their fool if they want him to, he had enough stories and riddles to fill a lifetime, their mock meant little to him in the end. A fool hears things, for when people consider you dumb, they let their guard down around you. In the end, you might end up being the most powerful of all.
It was not power that he was here for; if he wanted that, he would’ve never left. This was another story about to be told, and he was only on the first page.
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