|
The cry of a gryphon crashes against the cloudy sky, an eagle's screech into still air. From far below I hear it, and it fills me with a bittersweet symphony of joy and longing and sorrow at the expansive silence that stretches between myself and my companion. I can hear her, but I cannot feel her, cannot close my eyes and see through hers or hear her childish voice resounding like my own thoughts around the cluttered expanse of my mind. I don't know where she is except above, or what it is that has enticed her maturing voice. Is it prey, friend, foe? It makes me nervous, not being able to keep tabs on my wayward charge. Leaves me on edge as I walk the borders of my home and raise my flared nostrils to the aromatic air, seeking the presence of any who ventures into my home.
Foothills. I've been there only a handful of times, but I know the scent, largely because of the way it clung so faintly to Asur, whose memory as the friend I could have had still haunts my lonely thoughts. It's sharp in the dawn air, a misty and woody aroma that carries more openness than the dank scent of the Edge. I step towards it, curious, following the wind and wondering what brought one of our neighbors to our border, so early and so sudden. Since their aid in our invasion they had changed leaders and faded from our familiarity, the alliance between my home and theirs growing faint as we struggled against the outcast unicorns and they against the turmoil within their own herd.
What do they want now?
The colt seems nervous to my dark gaze, so young and so uncertain. I step out of the trees and into his view, a shadow dipped in stardust and sliced by the silver of the moon, softness in the sharp angles of my chiseled expression. The long strides I take make cracking sounds in the spring grass as twigs and new growth snap beneath my solid hooves. To the smaller stallion I nod, stopping a length away, arched neck gleaming with morning dew and curling mist floating out into the atmosphere from the warmth of my interior. "Good morning," I intone, deep and accented voice cutting the empty space between us. As curious as I am to know his motivations for the intrusion, I do not ask. Let him tell me what he will; I will withhold my judgment until then.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
