What’s this? He's patting along my neck, his hand is so warm
but wait, what happened to his gloves?
“Steady...” His eyes go narrow, focusing somewhere in the
distance. “We'll start after the signal, just wait and see.”
With a low huff, I throw my head back and my nostrils flare,
fogging up the air around us.
“That's a good gal.” He pats at my neck again. “Shouldn't be
long, now.”
My long, bristly hair has long since been hidden away with
clips and I almost wish that he would let it loose, but at least my tail can still
move, even with all the hairs tied back.
“Wait...” He tightens his grip on the reins, before his
breath goes very still.
My left eye tracks the single line that burns across the
dark sky, and my rider's shout is nearly lost to the blast of deafening
artillery.
The reins go completely limp, and any resistance I have left
has been destroyed. I push forward with a silent scream, before he raises his beacon
up high.
Each ray of spinning light burns the earth, the thick mud
pours down mixing in a thick flow of crimson. The scent is almost too much for
me but my hooves still push against it, spitting out into the bloody mud.
His words can barely reach my ears. Go? I'm already going as
fast as I possibly-
The searing hot metal hits my leg with barely a whisper, but the blood
instantly pours out, leaking out of my veins, to which my head snaps back
without even a sound.
The world goes still, standing in silence with the frost,
and I remain completely still... he's hovering, just atop my saddle.
Can a ghost stay within destroyed flesh? What reason would
it have once the war is over, the war long forgotten? When the children of
those left behind run and dance within what was once a place of devastating loss?
I'll never know, but as the ring of flowers settles around
my cold neck, something passes through whatever barrier had been there before,
and I feel warm again, if only for a moment.
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