I suppose that not all who were out there were trying to kill me. But, maybe Alleo's sister had only decided that it would be more fun to play with me when I was completely healthy rather than barely able to stand. I didn't know, but I still wasn't sure that I could trust anyone but the giant who was not but ten paces from me (in reality it was actually three, but depth perception has not been treating me well since I've had to switch from the vibrating, wave-like shapes of a dark world to one of colour and stability). I stretched out my legs, moving at a collected pace, and pushing off of my hindquarters as Alleo went on his patrols. He had told me to stay close, and so I would. I had no desire to have to use my earthquake magic again in order to save myself from death. But, I also had no desire to return to the desert whose scent still covered me like a blanket. Perhaps a bath would fix that, but I could not bring myself to do that - not in the cold again.

So, I followed after him, a gentle smile upon my face as my audits flicked around to take in all the noises of the creatures around me. And my orbs flickered around, finally taking in the greens and the oranges that were now available to my sight. So. What are we doing? I wanted to say, and as I closed in on him I started to stop after 3, slowing down once I thought I had caught up to him. Except those three landed me straight against his haunches again and I am launching myself backwards, letting out a snort and shaking my head as my hind legs give out and I am now positioned upon the ground, a small whicker of laughter and embarrassment escaping my maw.

I was not normally like this. That was a fact. Perhaps she had dosed me with something else in the process of healing me. That might explain why I was just so happy and carefree. Things didn't just happen like this for me, though, and I couldn't quite understand just what had changed.

Who knew, maybe it was just the fact that I could finally see the colours of the world around me that was causing me to change so much. I felt his tail snatch against my frame just as I had been speeding up to reach his side again, and as I went to put the breaks back on it was a little bit too late. What looked like seven paces had turned into none very quickly. As I backpedaled away I was laughing in embarrassment, making a mental note to find a way to explain the lack of depth perception to him once he was done with his job.

He tilted his head at me, and after giving me a stern look a grin started to pull at the corners of his mouth. Funny. Well, glad someone finds this funny. I thought, managing to return the smile as I staggered back onto my feet, trotting in place once just to be sure that I had my footing while he spoke of the patrol that needed to be finished. I nodded my head, ears pricked forward. I understood. It was important, and safety was necessary. So, I slid up by his side and tugged on his mane before starting to move forward again. Let's finish the patrol, then we can play more guessing games on why I keep bumping into his haunches like a yearling. And, as he moved, I was careful to keep my strides equal to his, even if it required two tiny strides in the same movement to do it.

Seriousness. I got it. But, honestly. I wasn't usually like this...

I slid past him, tugging on his mane to keep moving before continuing in the direction we had been travelling as he went on his patrol around the border . It made sense, why we were doing it. Of course, safety was going to have to be a top priority. I would have wished for that too, had I still been in control of my lands in the north of Forma Silvestris.

So, I closed my eyes for a few seconds as I moved on, really taking in the terrain around the two of us. No one was coming, really, but I still felt more comfortable trying to trick myself into believing I could function blind and mute.

It was the sound of my name that had my attention pulled, and within a second both of my hooves had dug into the sodden terrain and my haunches had dropped in an elegant stop. Eyes opened wide, afraid that I had missed something coming from the sky that would not be helpful to us. But, Alleo only trotted up to my side and slipped back into a walk, which I mirrored once I realized that nothing was coming for us. He tugged at my mane, and I looked up at him, allowing my eyes to meet his gaze every few seconds in order to ensure that I stayed on a stable path and didn't walk into anything.

He asked if I was able to see before and I nodded my head yes, then gave it a light shake of a no. Sort of. In flashes through my hawk... And then he was rephrasing the question, asking if I had always been blind. This time I only nodded my head, no shake to present a maybe to the situation. Born blind. Delicately, I tilted my cranium to the side as if to ask "why?" and I perked up my ears. However, I didn't stop, I kept moving so that his patrol wasn't held up too long because of me.

Perhaps I would slowly morph back into my comfortable, old self. Perhaps I would be able to reminisce and truly grieve now that I was healed and somehow managing to find my way around here.

It was a strange feeling, to see if anyone actually cared about what happened to me. No one had ever had the guts to ask for how long I had been blind. In fact, most of those who had ever made a comment about my blindness had only made reference to it in teasing or jarring manners. I had been bullied for it. No. That's too weak of a word. I had been ostracized for it. But, before I had been cast aside like the broken toy I was battered and bruised by the person that I had thought would have loved me unconditionally.

I suppose it was a form of love. After all, my mother had only attacked me until I acted normal. Every single time I didn't look her in the eye I was kicked or bitten so that my blood would drip on my pelt. Years had gone by under that training, and it had continued as I headed out into the real world. I was taunted by mares for not being able to see things - told of things that weren't in my way or tripped for no reason except to humiliate me.

It didn't matter then, though. It had made me stronger. But, still it tore at my heart and had bruised my mind in ways very few could truly understand. So, when he had asked about it I was a little confused, tilting my head to the side to try and understand just why it was that he cared. Curious, he had said with a shrug. Slowly, I nodded my head, eyeing him as I did so.

But, why was he curious? Why did he care? What was so intriguing about me that would make someone really care about how long I'd been unable to see? Would he even care when I started to speak again? Already, I was steeling my nerves in preparation of being tossed to the side the second that I was not necessarily in need of help. It would happen, this time couldn't be any different.

So, as he said to come one and I felt a nudge to my shoulder I matched his canter strides, having to stretch out in order to keep up. But, endurance was in my blood - it had to be to endure the torture that had been spread heavily across my soul.

Perhaps the patrol would end soon. Though I couldn't say that I would mind if it did continue. At least it was something that would keep my mind off the flood of memories with the images of torture splattered across them.

A cool breeze flickered in, one I would have considered a warning of an impending storm had I not the ability now to peer up at the sky and see its vibrant hues of blues and yellows splashed across it as if it were an easel for the painter's conscientious hand. It offered a sense of peace for me as I continued to stretch out and run across the land that we were patrolling. And, as it seemed we were reaching the end of the herd land he slowed down to a trot, and then a walk. I closed my eyes, feeling the vibrations around me so that I came to a simplistic halt, only kicking up a minimal amount of dirt in the process. It was only once I had my feet planted that I allowed my creme, pupil-less orbs to open again.

His baritone voice reached my audits as they flicked around, twitching as they strained to cling to the smooth notes that I was becoming so familiar with. Apparently the patrol was over, and while my frame was fairly happy with that - since I could feel the beads of sweat beginning to form - I couldn't help but to feel a little tinge of sadness, thinking that might mean that I would not get to spend more time out in the open with him. One gentle nod of my head and I am following after him as he begins to fade away from the border line and situate himself deeper into the heart of the foothills. A light tilt of his head and a shift in his weight to head in that direction as he started to walk. I was careful, making sure to plant my weight into the ground before pushing off after him. Only a few steps at the walk and then both of us have broken into a canter. My pace staying consistent, his changing depending upon his mood and whether or not he desired to be next to me at the time. And, when he was beside me he would nip at my shoulder as if he were begging me to play, or he would give a light tug to my mane. Then, he would speed back up again, trying to get to whatever destination he had in mind to rest at.

It was only a few minutes until I could hear the pounding of the waterfall, even the vibrations of it as they rang through my muscles with each stride. I was slowing down before him, though. For, while I could see where the water met the land it was difficult to feel such a clear line with it rumbling deep into my chest. I stopped, at least ten paces behind him only to see him start to move towards a bed of clovers. Within seconds he was lowered against the ground and beginning to roll, scratching his back against the greenery and grunting with joy (or so it seemed).

He lay there, on his side, once his scratching was done. His nostrils were flared and his eyes shut. It was that image which sent memories looming back into my skull with a new desire to break me until I couldn't be broken anymore.

Rain. Tons of it. A downpour, working hard to drench me and drown out what was left of my senses. A perfect storm, since I had accidentally stumbled across a waterfall in my travels. I had yet to go this far South in my lands, for I had always tried to stay the farthest away from the civilizations as possible. But, I had felt almost no life here earlier, so I had assumed I would be fine. That was, apparently, a lie - and a very large lie.

It was the day that I had met Scathashoun, the friesian who was at least four hands taller than I and much more built to overpower such a tiny frame. He feigned as though he cared, as I stood in a cave trembling in fear. I had been begging my senses to return for the past hour, maybe four, yet none of them had come back. The world was one huge blob, and at this point it was almost a miracle that I knew which side was up and which way was down. He said that he would guide me to safety. That was another lie from his mouth, though I will say that he 'nursed' me back to health (if one could really call it that).

He took me back towards the forest, away from the waterfall and finally I could make some sense of the land that I was standing on. Of course, with each flash of lightning and clap of thunder the world around me seemed to disappear for a few seconds as my heart leaped out of my chest. I could still hear the roar of the waterfall, and the rage that it seemed to carry, not too far off. It should have served as a warning for me, but it seemed as though things such as that were not the case. For, when I clung to his side to steady my frame as I lost my footing he seemed to snap out. His frame kicking at a tree in anger, telling me to get my own footing. And that tree didn't last long, for lightning struck it at the same time. With the force of his kick and the lightning the tree is tumbling down, and he is moving out of the way, not bothering to tell me from where the tree is coming.

It falls, and it crashes onto me, straight into the middle of my back. The fire that had started is drenched by the rain but I am crying and in pain. It will not stop, and it feels as though my back might just snap in two.

Of course, not all of the world was against me. It seemed that two members of my lands were coming by at the same time, having heard stories of the beauty of the north and wanting to see if the blinded mare was real. Whether or not they had come to taunt me or not was another story, but as I cry out for Scathashoun's help it is those two who aid along with the friesian.

Thirty minutes? An hour? No. Closer to two. It is two hours later that the tree is finally off of my back, off of me as it bored down on me. But I could feel the pain, and I couldn't stand. My hawk was circling my head, squawking at and trying to attack those who got near me or tried to touch me.

I will say now, looking back on it, that it was my hawk who had saved my life - not Scathashoun, not those two others who had stumbled across me. It was my hawk alone.

And now he was gone...

There were tears, silent tears, pooling down my face as I stood there. I suddenly felt as if I were soaking, and my back felt like it could be snapped at any moment. I felt weak. I felt vulnerable. I attempted to snap out of it, but I couldn't stop it - not with the roaring of the waterfall, not when he looked dead beside it.

The tears came stronger, and I am moving toward his side, trying to shove my nose under his barrel and shove him into the water. I'm not seeing Alleo. I'm not seeing anything except the massive friesian who had raped me, broken my back, and left me.

It is at the last second, after wiping my tears against my side that I feel the difference in build and actually take note of them. And, it is then, when I think he's going to be shoved into the water (though one could not be sure with my depth perception at the moment) that I snatch out for his mane, trying to hold on to keep his head from going underwater. What am I doing?! I can't drown him! Shit. Shit. Shit. And the tears are coming harder, and once I'm certain he is fine on his own I'm stumbling backwards, hind legs giving out as I fall into the patch of clovers, tears streaming across my face.

I'm stumbling back onto my feet, shaking my head, trying to force the sound from my cranium. But it won't go away and I can't concentrate. I want to scream I'm sorry, beg for forgiveness, explain that I honestly hadn't seen him when I had started to push him toward the water's edge. There's just one problem. I can't speak. So I'm turning tail, and I'm running, my hooves carrying me until I can no longer hear or feel the roar of the waterfall and I am near a tree to attempt to offer myself some protection.

Except the tree's protection is different. It's protection from myself. From the hatred burning in my soul of how everything was my fault. And I'm kicking out at it, trying to feel the pain in my back again. Trying to agitate an old wound that (while healed from a friend) could still cause issues in the winter. My hooves are pounding with a strength I didn't know, and I can feel the vibrations ripple through my bones.

And I continue. I continue until my limbs are aching and the tears have dried themselves. Nothing could stop me, nothing even if they wanted to. Then I have fallen to my knees, burying my head in my forelegs, chest heaving from exertion. The pain tingling in my back, right around the plethora of scars from the scraps of the bark.

Alleo will hate me. But can I really blame him?

He was yelling my name, but I wasn't listening. I couldn't listen. I couldn't go back. I couldn't look at him without feeling guilty. It hadn't been my fault. I hadn't meant to try and push him into the water. But he had rolled to get away, and he'd helped me do it! I was scrambling to get away from the scene, knowing I was unable to say sorry - afraid that the sounds were going to send me into some other unknown memory that I couldn't control.

So I had kicked at the tree, trying to injure myself again. I needed to feel the pain. I needed to wake up. I couldn't function, not really. The colour was fine, but it was almost as blinding as how I had been. Everything was a blur that my eyes just didn't want to focus on. I was getting headaches from the strain of constantly focusing on objects and using muscles in my eyes that I had never needed to use before.

And here I was. My hooves pounding into the bark, making sharp indents in the tree as I heard my name again. I'm sobbing, loud cries racking my frame as I felt the desire to scream JUST MAKE IT STOP!. But the scream would never be heard.

It was only when I could feel the pressure on my back, the dent in my spine, and the burning of my legs that I tried to stop. I allowed my legs to fold under me, head burying under my forelegs as I squeezed my eyes shut. I could feel his frame standing near me, resting his weight on his right side and he watched me. He was trying to keep an appearance of calm, but his muscles were tensed, concerned. Was he... worried? I couldn't be sure, but it felt like it. There was some other emotion nestled around inside of his faux demeanor that I just couldn't pinpoint, and that one felt the closest of any guess.

A joke fell off his lips, telling her that he would bathe before he slept the next time, and I pulled my head from under my leg, eyes peering up at him with sorrow boring into him. As I pulled myself to my feet my back gave an audible ,POP! and I winced, knowing I had reinjured my back wound. But, it wasn't fractured again, just tweaked from the kicking at an object that couldn't be moved.

Would he even let me get close to him again? To find a way to say I was sorry. He was too tall for me to find a way to hug him, to try and apologize for what I had just done. So, instead, I tugged at his mane, trying to get him to lower his neck. And, if he would allow it I attempted to rest my head atop it, near his pole where I could reach, trying to accomplish some semblance of a hug. It was then, that I pressed up against his side, lipping near his heart and letting a few breaths escape, radiating warmth against his pelt as I closed my eyes, a few more tears falling and being soaked up my by his pelt.

I needed to explain. Somehow. So, I tugged on his mane again, hoping for a lowered head again so I could bump my maw against his cranium, near his brain. Memories... And then, I ran my maw across his eyes, breathing against them as I passed across them gently. Images...

I took a step back, eyes scanning his frame, scanning the world around me for something I could use to try and explain painful. That was when my eyes locked on the scar upon his bridge. Carefully, I inched forward, pressing my maw up against the scar and breathing against the raised flesh, my eyes trying to meet his as I waited for him to connect the dots. And, then, I slowly backed away. My audits were flickering around, pain dancing through my orbs as I flared my nostrils to breathe in as much oxygen as possible. Painful memories. I'm sorry... Again, I dropped my head down low, peering up at him from behind a veil of pale locks.

Would he ever forgive me?

I watched him as my back popped, the spine finally lining back in place after I had continued to shove the disks together, trying to cause myself more pain - to punish myself for nearly drowning him, for possibly hurting him.

He seemed lost in thought, too lost in thought. And, so I tugged at his mane. He shouldn't call Lakota again. It wasn't necessary. No one could heal my back anyways. It had been done once, it was as good as it were to get. I could feel the hesitation as I tried to get his head down, but he gave in and allowed me to rest my head upon his poll, and then lipping at his chest. I didn't know any other way to say sorry than with words.

He sighed, lipping at my mane before saying that it was okay and that he was fine. I could only shake my head. It wasn't okay. It hadn't been right, and I would have to make that up to him. That much was evident to me, at least. Flowers? No. He's a man. That's useless... An amulet? If I found one, he'd get it... I'd figure something out. I was putting him through so much for so little in return.

Again, I tried to explain just why I had pushed him into the water, pressing my maw to his head, resting it on his eyes. But none of it worked. I saw the scar, and assuming that it would signify pain I pressed my maw to it, lipping at it and trying to be gentle, breathing against it. But it didn't take long. He was reeling back, ears pinned and eyes wide - as if I had just tried to kill him. And I'm reeling back as well, panic in my limbs. I hadn't meant to! God. No! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I just! I thought to myself as he squeezed his eyes shut and the shaking of his head.

I didn't care if I got hurt. I deserve it anyways. I moved forward, trying to press myself up against his chest, prepared for something to kick into me as I lipped at his shoulder trying to find a way to calm him. His head shook, just enough that it slammed into my shoulder and with the weight I stumbled backwards, wincing at the feeling of bone colliding with muscle. Deserve it. I deserve it. And I am hiding behind my forelock, trying to find another way to say I'm sorry.

When he finally looked at me I could feel my shoulder throbbing from the impact, and the confusion that was circling his eyes was mixed with anger on the lines of his face. I'm sorry! Dammit! Everything I do is wrong! I just want to speak and explain! And the tears are in my eyes. My hawk would know what to do. He would have let me avoid this. And I hate the world again. I just want to scream at it. I want to curse everything that had a chance to hurt him. I'm angry at him for dying. I'm angry at myself for crossing over and being the reason why he had to die.

I grit my teeth, my head lowered and neck arched as I hear the word sorry, and then bad memory. I understand, I do. But I have to use those words. I nod my head insistently at the words before pushing at his side, like I had when trying to roll him over into the water. I lip at a shorter scar on his side, hoping it wouldn't elicit the same reaction, and then I push again. Bad memory. Didn't mean to shove you in water... I'm sorry...

Would he understand? Would he care? I hadn't meant to scare him. I hadn't meant to make him relive anything. I was trying to help him understand that I wasn't usually like this...

I stumbled backwards, protecting the throbbing shoulder muscle from getting slammed with his head while he had his panic attack. I watched as his ears slid sideways. And he was blaming himself for something that was purely my fault.

He took note of my signs on the bad memory. He asked if I did too as I poked at his side with the scars. Again, I nodded my head. Yes. Terrible memory. But his, he seemed completely out of it, backing away in fear and that was my fault - for bringing that all back up to the surface.

I glued myself to his side, playing with a piece of his hair that was resting against his shoulder to try and comfort him just in case the memory was still lurking in the edges of his mind. He said that we all have bad memories and I bobbed my head. Yes, but some are worse than others... A frown yanked the corners of his maw down before he asked if a stallion had hurt me. A small frown mirrored on my face as my brows furrowed in confusion, trying to find a way to explain that it had not been one stag, but at least twenty over all of the years I had been walking and breathing. Slowly, carefully, I nodded my head once at the stallion portion. And then I give him a nudge before stamping my hoof. Five, ten, fifteen, twenty times. And then a flick of my ears back as I add in the last five, three of which I knew were more than likely still alive.

Would he understand? Most likely not. He asks if the stag was alive still and I nod my head once more, slowly, before stamping my foot three times. Three are alive. Three could find me... if they left my old lands...

I shift my weight, allowing my head to rest up against his shoulder, eyes closed. My muscles are tensed, trying to force the feelings from my mind and to avoid the memories that tried to break my soul, and shatter the wall I had built up to be so strong.

You, see, my dears. I can act normal. I can pretend nothing has happened to me. I can hold normal conversations, trust stallions and be around them. But, it isn't until I reach the idea of love that one can realize my head has been twisted and broken too many times.

For, the soft comfort of a touch, the hushed whispers, and the cradling of protection - to me - is what a friend can do, possibly, if they aren't that close to you. It's the people who don't care too much, or understand what's wrong with you that think they can do something to help. It the screaming, the kicking, the tearing of flesh, the demeaning words, even the refusal to accept that you exists that proves that they love you. After all, who can really accept all that has broken you and act as if you are whole? No one. And I've accepted that. If I wanted to be loved, they would have to complain about me, to beat me, to remind me that this wasn't some fairy tale - that while they loved me I was still blind, that I had still been used.

I didn't think Alleo would ever realize that. But, he wasn't broken, so even if I cared there was nothing to beat on him about - to try and fix, to try and make seem normal. He just... he couldn't understand. I was the one too strange to be anything but a toy, one used for stag's lust as they couldn't stand to actually be with something that couldn't see them. I had accepted that, many a year ago. I'd accepted that when the one who had originally treated me right physically had wronged me emotionally. Cheating on me, using me for the power that came with my position, and then playing with the nurses on the battlefields.

It had shattered me, and he had yelled at me, beaten me. Told me it was my fault. Told me that if I could see and compliment him on the beautiful sheen he kept on his coat, the muscles that flexed and his strength that he wouldn't have to go to them. That it was most definitely my fault.

He was killed in battle not long after, but alas, he was still killed.

There was a deep frown on his face as he counted each stamp of my hoof against the ground. But it hadn't been the stallions who were the reason why I'd tried to drown him. It was the situation I was in, near the waterfall - next time it would be near a raging river. It was one stag who had kicked a tree onto me. It was that one stag who had pushed my body into a flooding river and allowed me to be partially carried downstream while I was pregnant. It was that one stallion who had left me with a miscarriage at my feet, too weak to stand. And he had been huge, strong in build. And the images had morphed Alleo into him. I had to take the only chance I'd been given to kill him! I had to! He'd done too much. He'd broken my soul, leaving me after telling me that he loved me!

He asked if three were still alive, after I had stamped my hoof three times more and I nodded my head. Yes. But only one had really tortured me, tortured me to near death. The other had just waged war on my lands, tried to kill my family and the one stag who had really cared, who hadn't ever laid a finger on me, and told me that he loved me. And the last one had held me as a prisoner of war, pretending to be my lover only to hit me, to be sarcastic, to brutalize me in front of the only child I'd ever had live come birth after 15 different miscarriages in my life. Those three were alive, and those three had been the ones who were willing to carve my heart out and serve it on a platter after watching me writhe in pain, waiting for life.

Alleo said he wouldn't let them hurt me again, his muzzle resting against my forehead as he said it in a hushed voice. I nodded my head, just a little - not wanting to move from the place I was standing, trying to be comfortable, trying to keep the memories away from both of us...