[Drabbles] Zodiacal Stories

[Ruriska]

Quote:

The Three Horn (June 22 - July 22): A great lake in the heart of the swamp is frozen over -- except at its very center.

“I told her not to run off on her own,” the Totoma rumbled in distress.

Peep said nothing, merely pressed her shoulder against her daughter’s massive frame. They were standing together, staring out over the great lake. Most of it was frozen but out in the middle, the ice came to a sudden halt.

It was thick ice up until that point and gave a false sense of security.

A Kimeti filly stood trembling near that water’s edge, not daring to move a muscle. In the ice around her cracks had formed. If the ice gave way beneath she would be lost to the freezing water.

“I’ll go get her,” Peep said and instantly cut off her daughters ‘No!’ with, “I’m the lightest and we can’t leave her there. It’s our duty as Mother’s.” The Totoma made a rumbling sound of discontent but didn’t argue. Peep smiled. “I’ll be fine.”

The Acha stepped lightly out onto the ice, nearly lost her footing almost immediately and had to compensate for the lake of grip beneath her hooves. It was a blessing she’d inherited the Acha’s grace.

She made her way slowly across the lake, each step measured and tested. The yearling watched her with blossoming hope.

Peep kept her gaze on the ice but finally stopped and looked up.

Beneath them the ice was making sharp cracking sounds as it shifted.

“It’s okay,” Peep was smiling, reassuring. “I need you to step towards me. Very slowly, very carefully. Feel it out first. You don’t need to rush.”

The filly took a tentative step forward.

“That’s it.”

“I-I’m scared.”

“I know, so am I, but you have to move anyway. You can’t stay there until spring.” They laughed nervously together.

It was a slow and laborious process.

One step. Wait. Listen. A crack. Not there. Step to the side. Better. Another step. Wait. Okay.

Peep could feel her heart beating so fast in her chest she was sure it would simply fly out of her throat and away.

The filly reached her. They touched noses briefly.

“Still slow, we’re not done yet.”
It felt as though with each step they took, surely the ice would give and break and the lake would swallow them whole.

Together they approached the shore where Totoma was waiting and stepped to safety.

The young Kimeti instantly sank to the hard, cold ground. Peep joined her after a moment’s contemplation, sharing her warmth. The Totoma stood over them, protective and eyes full of relief.

“I think we’ve learnt a valuable lesson today,” Peep murmured as she nuzzled the youngster’s cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

“Nature can be dangerous, especially during winter. You need to be aware of everything around you. And always listen to your Auntie Totoma, she’s a Watcher for a reason.” Peep gave a little sigh. “I’m so glad you’re safe.”

She would do it again if she had to. Walk the ice a thousand times if it meant saving one of her many children. While she had breath, she would always be there to keep them safe.  

[Ruriska]

Quote:

The Hunter (July 23 - August 22): In the dream you turn and see no shadow behind you.

The Killing Moon is sleeping.

Somewhere his body is curled up in some corner of the Swamp, guarded by Echo and Fate, his breath even and his chest rising and falling with slow steadiness. He is still very far from home. Just that morning he stopped and wondered if it was time to go back, wondered if his journey was over. But it isn’t, he can still feel the urge to wander and the itch to move. He’ll be no good to his loved ones as he is now.

Something has pierced his calm, another dream perhaps and this something lingers at the edge of his mind, eating away at his sense of self. He wonder sometimes if everything he is is actually a lie.

But for now he is asleep and untroubled.

Or he was.

Except there is no escape from insidious dreams and soon he is awake in that other world and his expression is grim.

He can feel that detached sense of self the dream gives him and that at least is somewhat of a blessing. There is nothing in this dreamscape yet. Just an endless path and he figures it’s just mirroring his current life. If he looks back will he see his family behind him or are they somewhere ahead?

The sun is high and strong. He can feel it burning along his back and the tips of his ears.

With a sigh, he gives in to temptation and looks back.

His family isn’t back there.

And neither is his shadow.

That fact strikes him in the odd way that dreams do. An important fact that slithers into your brain and says, ‘pay attention!’.

The buck simply turns away and keeps walking. What else is he going to do? He’s not going to go looking for his lost shadow.

So he walks.

And walks.

And his limbs grow desperately weary and he grits his teeth as he tries to push through his exhaustion.

You can stop.

At the whispering voice in his mind, he does indeed come to a halt and he tilts his head sideways, isn’t surprised to see his shadow there.
You can stop pretending.

He doesn’t deign to answer.

You don’t really want to go back at all. Might as well stop thinking about it.

“That isn’t true.”

Really? Why did you leave?

Silence.

You’re not all that you are.

“That doesn’t even make sense,” he scoffs and continues walking. The shadow keeps pace.

So sick of smiling, pretending, caring. Let go. Be free.

“I am free.”

You’re trapped by your own nature.

He balks. “I’ll find the bit that’s missing. I’ll find it soon.” He has to. Otherwise leaving his children behind wouldn't have been worth the sacrifice.

You thought the weight you held would go once you’d set yourself on this wandering path... but it hasn’t.

“It will.”

You’re empty.

He hisses angrily and spins to face his shadow self.

Deep down is emptiness and you’re afraid to touch it.

He finds himself immobilized and the sun is too bright and too hot and his heart is on some uneven rhythm that makes him feel faint.

Our family can’t save you from that.

“Ours now?”

I am that emptiness and I am capable of many terrible things.

The Killing Moon shakes his head but words fail him and he sinks to his knees.

Only together will be whole. You need to let me in. You need to accept it all. You are good and kind and charming but you are also none of those things. You care only for a certain few; the rest can turn to cinders and ash. We can create and we can destroy. But only together. Please.

The voice is insidious and it is right there with him, inside, cold.

He doesn’t fight.

He sinks sideways into the earth, feels his shadow flex and settle within him, stretch out to fill every space. Decides it feels good. Right. He can’t be happy if he’s denying all of himself. He is not perfect. Despite what he tries to show the world and his family, he is not perfect at all. There is a darkness to him and sometimes it sings out. Sometimes it needs to be free. It doesn’t mean he can’t still be The Killing Moon they all want; just that he can also be more.

When he wakes, it’s with a shudder.  

[Ruriska]

Quote:

The Mangrove (April 21 - May 21): A sweet doe sings a song of lost love.

It was cold.

The sun had given up struggling to get through the thick layer of clouds and simply cowered away, as are most of the creatures of the swamp. The Mothers Club and those who seek shelter with them huddled together in small groups, sharing warmth in thickets or small grassy depressions. The Totoma are particularly popular, especially with the youngsters who still have energy to spare.

Peep was watching with a smile as one youngster manages to clamber up her daughter’s back and grinning Totoma remained rock steady.

When Peep gave a puff of amusement, her breath came out in a cold plume. Yes, it was cold and the best place to be is surrounded by friends and family, cuddled up safe and warm.

So it was a little regret that she removed herself from the pile she was in, giving each foal she passed by a kiss on the nose. The cold air hit her and she shivered, briefly considered going back and then set out with a determined lift of her head.

She heard the doe she was searching for before she saw her.

The young mother-to-be had arrived two days past and after a brief hello, had chosen to shun company and had chosen a secluded position to rest. She accepted food when it was delivered but discouraged talk. Nobody minded. They left her alone and were ready to be supportive when she needed it.

But on this cold day, Peep was worried.

And as she approached the thicket where she knew the doe was resting, she heard it.

The song stopped her in her tracks, lifted her head and perked up her ears.

It was soft but the cold wind seemed to carry it and with it the pain behind the words. She sung from the depth of a broken heart and Peep ached for her. The song wound its way around her and Peep listened. It spoke of a great love taken too soon, of pain and loss, of despair and the desire to give in. It cried out to the swamp and asked ‘why?’.

But the swamp gave as well as took away. The MotherFather had given the greatest gift, with the young lives growing in their mother’s belly. But even so, they could not erase the grief of losing the one you loved most in the world.

Peep knew about love. She loved many, even those she’d never met and knew she would love many more. But that was different, not quite the love she knew this doe had lost. To find that someone who completed you, wasn’t that everyone’s dream? Then to have it abruptly taken away just when it seemed your life was perfect. Tragic.

She let the song come to an end but even once there was only silence, all Peep did was stand and wait. The cold settled into her bones and still she stood, then finally, finally, with sigh, she approached.

“Hello! Do you mind if I come in?” She announced her presence at the edge of the thicket.

There was a long silence and finally, “… that’s fine.”

Peep entered and found the doe curled up on the ground. The full belly made it difficult and even with just a quick glance at it Peep could tell the Kimeti wouldn’t be pregnant for too much longer. There would be new lives sleeping here soon.

“Are you cold?” Peep asked with a smile, stepping closer.

“A little.”

Peep didn’t mention the song; not now and not ever. Instead she just settled herself next to the doe, snuggled close and shared her warmth and companionship. Neither of them said anything and as day turned to night they remained together. In the morning, Peep left and hours later, the doe emerged.

Two days later they were in the thicket again, watching over two newly laid sacs. One had colours completely unlike its mother; bright and bold.

“I’ll cherish them both,” the doe said with tears in her eyes.

“You’ll make a wonderful mother,” Peep told her.