Contemplation on the whereabouts of my traveling companion(s) become as soft and distant as the waterfalls beyond those evergreens and the rise. Reality pumps its wings across those quiet, musing corners. Restoring another fragment of clarity. Hope. It becomes the first bloom in spring, forcing root upon the charred, upturned terrain. Daring to grow amidst the sorrow and chaos. Lungs suck in the sweet, thin mountain air.  Free…that inner voice whispers, unfettered…liberated. During my captivity, I never counted on freedom – never looked to the day I would escape their clutch. Adaptation required immersion, not just the illusion of it. Those that looked forward to the day of their release became among the first to perish. But now… I step clear of the threshold (my threshold) entirely and merge into the stirring, waking glory of a renewed day.

Now…

The undiluted light becomes tender almost and -despite the call of necessity- I’m inspired to pause, turn my face to it. Lingering in the embrace of peace; allowing it to rain upon emotional scars like a salve. While I'm soaking that newfound resolve to dwell within the moment, absently, I glance down. Something…my expression hardens...odd had been sowed over the rocky floor. Brows narrow. There is... sun-bleached, trampled wheat of various type all strewed about. Mere feet from the mouth of my cave. I lean forward, nostrils quiver into action, scenting and surmising that it couldn’t have grown from the soil below. That clay, sandy loam wasn’t fertile enough to support anything more than peat moss at best. Temples dig a furrow, momentarily I'm lost with bemusement.

How...?

A vision comes to mind – answering a snippet of confusion with a hazy explanation. Very faintly, I can recall chewing on nearby stems during those faded, delirious days. While locked in a space of utter fatigue and restoration, I'd eaten very little and never thought to question the source of gratification.  

My focus shifts and settles on another piece the puzzle. Dispersed near the remains of that decaying flora. Hoof prints! Enormous marks that doubled the width of mine! My pulse became a mallet, hammering in my chest and echoing down the hollow passageways. Mini me looks up from her sunbath; a comforting, rare smile upon her face, ‘he was here.’ I frown and shake my head, instantly retreating to the open embrace of denial. These…might belong to anyone. Her figurative eyes seem to shine, smarting with amusement. She counters and chides with a single word, ‘anyone?’

Er.

I swallow, becoming suddenly wary...but also…intrigued. Then…there is the faintest disturbance nearby. Mayhaps the stir of feathers as they flow over bedrock? I anticipate what I would find even before my neck cranes around to view that materialized suspicion. Mini me smirks with her ‘I told you so’ look and murmurs, ‘impeccable timing,’ before falling uselessly silent. I brace for the forked head of anxiety to rear; for fear to trickle in like a leak that never stopped. But my nerves are slow to form and…surprisingly tame to suppress. Though...hadn't he earned my trust…thrice multiplied? I shove remnants of negativity and doubt back beneath the foamy waves of my subconscious.  

Words bubble to the surface, reaching for the chance to emerge. But none of them are ones he’d understand, "Tu es resté." That admission is hardly at an recoverable octave; but the sound of my dry voice is useful to ground me. This wasn’t a dream. He wasn’t a false reality. Nostrils flare, attempting to drink his scent as I openly trace the chiseled contours, lingering on favored and familiar curves. Rising from the steeled cords of his legs and beyond until finally…I venture to find his green-blue gaze, “hi,” murmured from my collection of sparse vocabulary, I produce a greeting, hoping it would suit him.

Fixed irises flick to the blades between his teeth; a hot flush splashes up my neck, singing my unspoken response to the solution. It was him after all…he’d brought food. "Qu'es-tu," I break off, missing a beat but recognizing my mistake. Before coming here...I'd learned to survive by avoiding contact; but there had been a rare few who bore enough patience to toil through the exchange of words. We often only accomplished this by using simple sentences...and miming or harnessing universal gestures. I put my education to practice and gesture his way with the butt of my snout, simultaneously clicking my jaws together and fanning both ears forward, signaling a willingness to listen and convey, “why?” It wasn’t correct…I’d wanted to ask, ‘what,’ but the meager store I borrowed from is bare boned and lusterless.

OC: @Noah