CHERNOBYL

“”

The heat is easily escaped by going north, but she's always north, always. Murdock isn't coming back, she's starting to face that solemn fact now...and so without him or the prospect of him the snows and the melting ice only seems to make her long for him even more. The heaviness swirls in her gut like beetles let loose inside her. Her skin crawls and her heart cannot help but mourn him as if he's dead. He may even be. Who knows. Her thoughts try to shrug him away but everyone knows how well that works when it is the demon “Love” that has a hold of your train of thought.


Where am..? She nods to herself, almost as if she has just woken up from sleep walking for several days. Her black eyes blink, long lashes fluttering to adjust to the light. Ohhh. The Thresh. She recognizes the aspens and the rocky pathways, she can smell the hardwoods beyond the patch of white clumps of trees. She has no real reason to be here, she left herd life a long time ago. It seems as if it were a million years ago but really it has only been about three...and now..without her winged lover, it seems as though solitude is her only destiny. She watches a pair of mares loping toward the opening she is advancing on. A primal part of her simply wants to join stride and canter along with them, something about it clears any weight that strangles a unicorn's mind. She does not hesitate for longer than a half second, leaning on long limbs and rolling into an almost gallop to catch up. She throws her back legs out, leaping and slashing at the earth with her worn cracked hooves. When the mare without a horn stops so does Byl [Bull]. Shaking like a wet dog, sweating and flicking her tail at the flies just as the white mare does. She watches to see if the other will do the same and join them.


This particular sort of thing is not normal for the anti-social woman. She never comes to these hills, this place, she never joins in without sarcasm or some sort of dark aura to swallow anyone standing near by. Today is different though. Today the idea of breathing bodies near her is a welcomed one, as odd as it seems, and she relishes in it's warmth.

i've dug graves,
you'll never find . . .