Umbriel’s emerald eyes, so stark and bright against the black rings around her sunken eye sockets, never wandered from their post along the trail. They were the only bright thing in this darkness. Shades of brilliant spring green flecked them, as well as tiny droplets of amber. Indeed, Umbriel’s eyes and her horn were the only remarkable things about her. The rest of her was drab, ugly, gray—forgettable. So very forgettable. She wondered if her father and mother had already forgotten she existed, forgotten that she came from their loins as surely as her brother did. They would never forget her brother, though. They would never forget how Isomer saved them from exile… and how Umbriel had nearly gotten them killed. It amazed her how much of a difference a horn could make. If she’d never been born with this thing, this horrible obsidian abomination, she would be loved. She would be looked after and played with by all the other horses in her herd. She wouldn’t be here, wandering eternally, half starved because of her stupid hang ups. Umbriel drew a shaky breath and exhaled fully, as if wishing to send all the negative energy within her out with her hot breath. She remembered when her horn had first started to come in. It hurt and made her itch, much like a child’s teething phase. She remembered the horror on her mother’s face, the regret; she remembered the absolute fury on her father’s. Little Brie had been so confused—she was just like her daddy, special, having something that no one else had in the herd. The soft velvet hid her horn’s true ugliness from the world until it had fully grown in. Instinctually she’d known to rub it off like the bucks in the forest did, and once unsheathed, her horn had caused her nothing but trouble since. In her adolescence, the minx had tried several times to break it off, but it was harder than she imagined it would be. Solid bone, solid rock, solid something—all Umbriel knew was that it could not be broken, or dulled. It was still as razor sharp as it had been the very first day. The grulla mare sighed once more, this time truly expelling all the bad thoughts within her. It wouldn’t do to keep thinking like this, not when her concentration was needed elsewhere… like focusing on not being eaten by wild dogs.

Out of the pitch black of the surrounding woods, a figure stepped out before her. Immediately Umbriel paused, back hoof cocked in the walking position but frozen still. She raised her head to meet the looming figure as she slowly set her hoof back onto the dry, dusty trail. Her mouth went dry. The figure in the distance had red eyes and was vaguely shaped like a dog, though it was much too large to be feral. Umbriel sniffed the air. Something almost like blood wafted toward her, the scent was somehow metallic. She couldn’t think about the source of the odd smell for too long, because another larger shadow joined the first ahead of her on the trail. This lunknown was too large to be a dog or wolf, so it must be another horse. Surreptitiously she sniffed the air again, looking for any signs of what—or who—this new stranger could be. She smelled stallion on him, an oppressive masculine scent that immediately sent Briel’s nostrils closing with dislike. Between the two of them, the scent was nearly unbearable—she felt like she was drowning in blood and male. But Umbriel’s curiosity had been aroused, so she took a few tentative steps closer, close enough to see that it was indeed a metal dog like creature and another unicorn, like her. It was only the second time in her life that she’d seen another of her kind, and she found her initial dislike of him fading away into neutrality. He ruined that somewhat when he opened his mouth, however. “You look like shit,” the strange stallion said, his deep voice devoid of all emotion.

“And you look like a rhinoceros.”

It was a knee jerk reaction, one she’d probably regret later. But in her defense, he did look at least vaguely rhinoceros-like. Umbriel referred to the dual horns on his head, something that she’d never thought could exist. However, her unicorn experience was rather limited. Maybe she was the freak for not having two horns. Umbriel wasn’t sure. The stallion spoke again. “Unfortunately, the Sun God is spinning the world into a desert, but I know where fields are where you can eat.” Umbriel’s stomach rumbled at his words. She’d almost forgotten her hunger. How could she tell him she could not eat? And what in the world was a Sun God?

“Our kind can eat freely here?”

Umbriel’s mouth worked without her consent. Internally berating herself for sounding so naïve, she realized she was genuinely curious about where these fields were. Were they brown and dead, as was the grass she’d had to eat a home? Umbriel felt woefully unworldly and young, but it was not her fault she had no experience with the way the rest of the world worked. She felt anger rising in her heart again. Damn her parents. Damn her brother. Damn her herd for never letting her out of her forced segregation.

umbriel«

»your skin and bones turn into something beautiful.

Umbriel was surprised when the stallion laughed at her insult, no matter how thoughtlessly it had left her lips. It was a deep laugh, starting somewhere from inside his belly and echoing out through his lungs and into the dark forest. He must be unafraid of anyone finding him here, like cougars or wolves. It made sense; after all, the huge mechanical dog he had next to him would be sure to protect him from any harm. Although he looks like he could protect himself even without that large beast, Umbriel thought. As if it could read her mind, the mechanical beast in question stepped forward to stand in line with its master, its red eyes boring holes into the empty space ahead of it. Its red eyes sent unpleasant shivers up Umbriel’s spine, though the beast had seemed nothing but harmless thus far. Perhaps it was the unnatural stillness of it that unsettled the mare so. It did not breathe as the two unicorns did, exhaling moist, spent air into the dry summer atmosphere. It did not twitch as the horse’s hide naturally did when flies contacted it, it did not shift its weight from one leg to the other. Not so much as a wag of its wolf like tail could be seen from the dog. However, the strange stallion’s almost violent reaction to what Umbriel naively asked distracted her from her musings about the dog. “It is our birthright, being born with this weapon upon our brow, to dine where and when we wish. We are burdened with glorious purpose. We are ancient. We are wise, and our blood runs in the very earth we stand upon and in the stars in the sky.” Umbriel’s world turned upside down. She’d thought that he’d be angry as she was, filled with rage at the poor treatment of those cursed with the mark of the moon. However, he had obviously not been treated badly, he even seemed to feel superior to those without horns—he’d said their purpose was glorious, after all. She’d noticed the strength of his tone, such a change from the blandness he’d expressed earlier. For the first time she noticed his eyes, blazing with indignation. They were a bronze color, making her think of mines deep within the earth. She found herself getting agitated as well; feeding off the emotions he was exuding. It was only natural, as horses are responsive herd animals first and foremost. The stranger spoke again in the same passionate voice as before. “Eat. Your horn gives you your freedom. It is power that can never be taken from you.” Umbriel’s green eyes wandered upwards as if trying to look at her horn, even if it was impossible without a reflective surface. She’d never thought of her horn as something powerful, something that made her worthy, only as something that brought her strife and confrontation.

“I… don’t know what to say. I’ve never thought of my horn or being a unicorn like that. It’s only brought me ridicule and suffering. You are the first unicorn I’ve seen besides myself and my father, the rest of my herd was hornless.”

Umbriel winced unconsciously around the word “father”. It hurt to say and it hurt that she still thought of him as a father and not as a hypocritical and abusive remnant of her past. She did not want to go into her experiences with the mundanes—that was her pet name for those with no horns—with this relative stranger, but she hoped that he got the message she was trying to send. They beat me, they starved me, they hated me; I’m so angry, and it will never get better. Briel’s ruined body was littered with the evidence of the mundanes’ and her father’s abuse. Even though the scars had mostly healed, her coat had grown in darker where they had once been. She looked toward the dark unicorn before her and noticed that the steed was staring intently at his companion with the same look as it had toward the air in front of it—like servant, like master, she supposed—blank and emotionless, calculating. It was so unlike her own expressions she was fascinated. Umbriel’s eyes were always stewing, swirling pots of rage and anger and hate and hunger. Two kinds of hunger, to be exact—that for revenge and that for food. She felt as if her insides were black and twisted, shriveled and dry with the acidic bitterness housed in her waiflike body. She hated the equines for making her this way, for making her father hate her, for taking every basic pleasure away from her. Happiness was out of Umbriel’s reach, her true worth had been hidden from her, and even the basic right to eat had been taken away. As naïve as she was, she was not innocent to the cruelty of the world. She did not think she had ever been.

ooc: Every time I picture his companion, I immediately see the mechanical hound from Fahrenheit 451, haha. And sorry for taking so long, I've had a super busy week so far!

umbriel«

»your skin and bones turn into something beautiful.