Two things were happening with you that was breaking my heart.

First, you were frustrated and you wouldn’t tell me why. You didn’t even know it as frustration, either; you just knew you had an urge you couldn’t fulfill, an itch you had trouble scratching, and even though I showered you with question after question you refused to give me a full answer. Do you want to go back down south? Silence. Is there something you wanna eat? Silence. I knew in my breast that you hated me for returning to a place that only served to get colder and cause you to huddle in my mane that much closer—but you never said, and you always wanted me to come here because you knew what it did to me, to go up north. I wondered if you started blaming me for it; the thought was more painful than I’ll ever admit.

And another thing. You were worried too, which was a hell of a lot more alarming.

Worried about me.

“It’s cool, I’m cool, I’m fine,” I said breathlessly, rolling to my feet once more, despite the protest of an aching, exhausted body. “No, I’ll be fine, I got this.” My voice was vague, unfocused—throaty, too, probably with all the things that had come out of my mouth during the—

--the—

….well, anyway. It was fine. I was fine. I was gonna be cool.

“I’m fine, it’s cool, I’ll be cool--“ I kept stammering, and I could almost see your worry rise behind my eyes, crescendoing into something tragic and frightened, “Chico, chill,” I said, still with that awful vagueness, “It’s fine, I just won’t sleep. S’probably something I ate or whatever.”

I heard your silent agreement—a mental head-nod. Yes, it could be something I had eaten; you knew full well I hadn’t eaten in a few days.

And now I wasn’t sleeping. Now I was haunting the north--literally haunting, because I was too numb to feel myself, to feel like something blood-filled and breathing. Now I was stalking the curved, glazed, icy walls of a cavern, pacing back and forth to walk off the throbbing heart—trying to erase the memory of red eyes cackling at me, screeching gleefully, shouting, shouting, you need to learn your fucking place in this world—

“….’m fine,” my voice slipped, suddenly fragile—even as the echo of hooves rattled further down the arch.

I froze; I held my breath. Someone was here.From the Basin? Was I ready?

….ready for what?


@[Zünden]
"talk"