honest is easy
fiction’s where genius lies
There was a slight lurch to Roland’s step as he walked, choosing the placement of his feet upon the dark ice with extreme care. He was glad no one had been around moments ago to witness his sudden stumble as he trotted through the dark, suddenly losing his footing upon the uneven rocks and crashing to the ground on one knee. He had barely made a sound as he fell luckily, not wanting to attract attention, but there was a thin scrape and a smear of blood across his fur that stung bitterly in the cold air. The darkness had persisted for several days now, though Roland had entirely lost track of time without the sun and moon to count the hours, but he had grown no more graceful in his maneuvering around the rocky valley with shadows swimming before his eyes.
He had assumed he was alone with only his dismal, and now wounded, thoughts to keep him company, sleep weighing heavily on his eyelids, until he glimpsed a shape moving ahead of him, just barely catching the glint of distant light. Curious but apprehensive, he approached slowly and did his best to hide the limp he now walked with, tilting his head in a failed attempt to see through the darkness.
“Hello there?” He called out softly as he approached, his voice sounding eerily loud in the deathly silence. As he grew nearer the shape of the creature became more apparent, and to his relief he found he was standing before another horse. At least, he assumed so. She was young, with a deep purple pelt that mixed in with the darkness so well he might have walked right into her if he had not been looking carefully, but she was also very unique. One might have said strange if they were of a crueler mind.
He could just barely make out her frosty eyes and slender face, noticing that she had an attractive countenance, but what set her apart from the usual was her complete lack of hair. Without it she appeared small and fragile, perhaps as exposed as he felt in the ambiguous darkness, and Roland felt a twinge of sympathy for the filly. Halting before her, he lifted the weight from his left forelimb and leaned back on his haunches, disguising a grimace of pain as he looked down at her. “I haven’t seen you around before. My name is Roland,” he intoned kindly, dipping his head in somewhat of an overdramatic bow. The child looked like she could use cheering up, and with charisma coming as naturally to him as breathing, he was more than happy to try his hand at brightening her day, even if he could not do it in the literal sense.
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