So this, this must be what helplessness feels like.
I am falling. I can feel the compelling tug of gravity plunging me remorselessly toward the hard earth below, her incontestable force causing me to tumult inexorably. Fear clutches my flailing body with a tight fist, and as I try to regain my poise, I find that I am physically incapable due to my impaired wing. It aches as the air collides viciously into the tender affliction - no, tender is not an accurate word. Rather, atrocious. It is painful, and I can feel the adrenaline pulse through my veins like ice water, feeding endorphins to the laceration in an attempt to deaden the receptiveness of the nerves around it.
It doesn't seem to be helping much. The whipping air is ruthless, and as the pale gelding grasps the curvature of my neck between his teeth, I hear his panicked, tempestuous voice trumpet through the air. I do not recognize the name he speaks, I only acknowledge his plea for help, and inwardly I am doing much the same. I do not want to die like this. I cannot leave my young daughter without a mother. And Azzuen, I can not bare to leave him just yet. I can only imagine the guilt he would feel despite the fault being none of his own.
It is as if my thoughts have manifested his physical presence, and for a moment I find myself tentative as to whether it is actually him in the flesh, or if was merely my uneasy mind that had brought him here beside me, this beautiful apparition. But he is real, I am sure of this now with utmost authority. His voice is intense and drenched in urgency as his dark form presses up against my own. He implores me to fly with him, and I heed his dictation to my best ability. It is a strange emotion that overcomes me then. The ground is impeding quickly, and my eyes squeeze shut, for I do not desire to know when the impact will come.
It isn't as painful as I had originally anticipated. I hit with profound force, and yet my body is almost numb. There is still pain that shoots through my anatomy, and I find that I am nearly incapable of moving. So I do not. I lay still until that familiar, solacing voice kindly tickles my ears. I wearily lift my head to touch my muzzle against his own, my ears pulled back with pain and yet the oddest sense of pleasure that he has come to my rescue; that he is here with me. My nostrils flex as air flares from my lungs, the surge likely blowing into his as our maws make contact with each other.
There is a faint smile evinced upon my features as I look at him, though it is somewhat shrouded by distress and I am sure my emotions are clearly scripted in the depths of my topaz eyes. They are two melting pots of incertitude, repleted with semblances of fear and shock, yet contentedness; love as I peer into his eyes. My muscles begin to tremble, and finally I allow them to loosen, my head consequently descending to the cold, hard earth below. My cavernous chest heaves with air, and in reception the familiar stab of pain is received. I'm immediately made aware of the severity of the soreness in my cavernous chest and my lungs. Thereafter my breathing is shallow, though no more hastened than before.
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