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Foxes, wolves, and domesticated dogs are all of a same family, no? Yet they are more different than the sun and the moon; neither of which exist. Does this mean that unicorns, the pegasi, and the horses will melt into a single entity, unified in the face of darkness? No. No, it does not. No matter what they say, they are all different in the fashion of their builds and the curve of their sharp-edged fangs- even if you can no longer see due to the impenetrable night.
The mare walks in the darkness, a shadow, charcoal coat eating at the faded amber light.
A glimpse of silver shines in the darkness, a gleam of sparkling white in the washed-out, sickly glow emitted from the sparse trees. Lady Death does not mind the darkness, the way it cocoons her in it's familiar, frigid shell. Her dark, scarred coat clings tight, stretched taut over her bones, and even her winter fur, weighing down each step on her starved frame, cannot keep out the mind-numbing cold. Perhaps that is why she comes stumbling, pursuing the faded sparkle, of light on white scales; and then Skullface stops dead, nostrils flaring, chest heaving from the brief, but much too hard, effort to come closer. Energy preservation could mean the difference between life and death in the treacherous, perilous world that is now her home.
Dreams she had entertained, deranged illusions of taking the world by force. Yet now, all she felt was a gnawing hunger, eating at her fractured mind. Confutatis, the little dark monster that lingered at the edge of nightmares and haunted the bad dreams, was near-death. No grass blossomed from the earth to ease the pains cramping her stomach. Weak the hellion was, legs shakier than a newborn colt's. The efforts of walking had nearly become too much.
White becomes sharper, becoming a reptilian beast. Murmurs become voices.
Exhaustion weighs at her limbs. Leaning against the tree, the outcast heaves a deep, throaty sigh, rubbing her shoulder half-heartedly against the cracked bark. Even monsters have their bad days, and unlike some predators, she does not prey on others for meat, which is easier to come back than grass at this time. "I'm curious to learn how you see in the darkness," she rasps, eye dark and mildly interested. "Who is your guardian angel, spider webs?"
CONFUTATIS
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