His eyes watch carefully, attention that conquers and prevails over the white image that fades. The boy’s senses start to strengthen as he tries to piece together the subtle hints, the mere indications radiating from the mare’s simplest of movements. From the surface of hazel eyes they are merely bright; the beacon that sends out a strong beam into the dark forest. Softened as they search for the answer in her voice; but how long can this second skin last? The illusion sends a weary pulse, but it can never truly separate Dawn from his course. It has been a shield well worn in the face of too many battles. Where others have fallen, he has persevered, their failures reinforcing the seams of that shield and pulling him forwards. At last it thrives, once a clothing article, a playing card, a thing, it is his flesh. And perhaps it has finally embedded itself within his soul, an attempt to stitch the seams, prevent the bleeding.

And there it is, her reply.

Perhaps.

This simple word appears sweat and resonates with a life genuine to its master. He may believe the good intent in the creature before him, but he cannot find the hope that should inspire one such as he. The initial, callous response is snuffed from its root, before it can spit itself into the air. Instead of repulsing the bland content from the mare’s honeyed lips, his smile grows into a grin. Indeed, he is amused; he turns his head and leaves his eyes quietly to the forest beside her. Considering this response with an air of lost anticipation. The previous beam dims in those orbs, a grin remains of what flickers. The young stallion disappointed, his wonder and hope, the light he was searching for weakens against the rising sun.

A curled ear twitches as she shifts. A proposal has at last unveiled the angel underneath the shadow. Beyond the confidence that strengthens the voice beyond her flesh, the offer appears tentative to the stallion. She is so careful, offering no judgment and providing reprieve, by what grace has he stumbled upon?

He raises his head and gaze to her face. The jagged ends of those lips loosen. “You can try.” He finally wills himself to pull away from the water’s edge. It’s as if claws have sunk into him, he feels cold when he slowly walks from the crimson stones, the large tree to his back. “… though, it is a curious thing you propose misses.” His brows are subtle, and move amidst thought, puzzled. “For what have you to offer?” He does not mock her. Dawn speaks aloud, thoughts that are generated between them both. “You see, this wellness of which you speak of, I cannot quite think of it as one thing. It appears to me as a web, or webs upon webs. Some that fade into cobwebs, others that ensnare memories, and some that glimmer brightly from where they are. I can declare my being, but what good does that do if I cannot align myself in it with whole hearted truth?”

The youth plays a fine line between truth and lies; at least, the ones he finds himself accustomed to. His curiosity is sparked by the gravity of his own voice, which can only make him smile again. Bashfully, as a small laugh lolls into the open, he looks away and steals the intensity away from her gaze. “Well, where shall we proceed with this then?” He had no desire to exchange names, he enjoyed dancing among the shadows, flowing along with the mists. It was not odd to him then, that they continued to be strangers.

DAWN
stallion of world's edge
i could live in hope