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The flash of lightning sets my hooves to motion with the speed of the gleam dancing through the bleak wood, my heart soaring high to see what my mind immediately takes to be my mother’s magic; as I run, I can’t help but wonder why I care so much, why hope floods me like wildfire, and pushes my sinew all that much more swiftly across the root riddled paths.
She betrayed me, and us, I think, she doesn’t love or want you.
Why do I still miss her so badly?
It’s a black hole draining down into my belly as I run. While I can think of her now without my insides curdling in loathing, in sadness, I can’t stop the old, cold feeling from sweeping over me like it had at first.
The hole gapes wider as I slow down near the smell of electrical burn, hooves finding soft spots on the ground to cover my approach, as I tip toe forward to look through the slanted trunks; it is not mother.
A girl towers over a bird of prey, its feathers singed and smoking; I don’t know why she’s decided to torment the creature, but I don’t intervene, either – its this cream stranger’s soul, not mine. Her hoof rises, crunches down on the skull. My ears fall backwards. My chest tightens, constricts, tries to force down the wild elation of hope so suddenly stilled by the sight of a strange, murderous girl. It takes me some time, standing there, watching.
She leaves the bird, her strange horns of hair drawing my eyes, a focus I try to put all my attentions on, because if I think about now I can’t tremble over what might have been, and what was. She begins to walk away when some sort of noise I can’t hear from here draws her eyes up into the trees – I follow the motion, to find the bald head of a bird, no doubt the child of the slain beast littering the forest floor now. It peeps, squalls.
I’ve never witnessed a bond born before. The cold nonchalance with which she’d walked away from the adult raptor is lost in a sudden interest in the bird above, and I’m smart enough to put two and two together, managing to smile despite the demons crooning in the darkest parts of myself.
“Find a way to get down,” she’s demanding of the useless flesh blob.
Shaking my head at the stupidity of young girls, I decide to reveal myself, stepping from the trees where I’d hidden in the shadow. A small chuckle breaks from me as the little hatchling seems quite flabbergasted by the request given to her by the filly on the ground, a chuckle that falls into an admonishing snort.
Go away, mother. I have better things to think.
"It will die trying," I say, as if it’s a matter of fact, not speculation – I’ve seen enough dislodged hatchlings to know young birds aren’t good for much but dying until they can fly. Taking account of the situation from directly below, an idea strikes me, a memory coming to mind of Volterra, and my mirror. Glancing about the foliage for something sizeable enough to carry the hatchling without hurting it, I delight in the discovery a raccoon dozing the afternoon away on a nearby tree.
A rogue’s smile lacquers to my lips, golden eyes sparkling with the grand prowess of my skill as I turn back to the strange filly.
"I can help, if you want."
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[O] I Warn You, I've Been Trained to Kill Since Birth
