Talori Plot 305: The Edge of the World

The journey through the smoke and debris was more torturous than the blind panic at the beginning of the commotion. Every moment Seven worried they might suffer another attack from above. Screams, both distant and horribly close, seemed to echo through the foal's mind before they became almost white noise. His body was extremely tense, and his stomach rumbled in nervous distress. The trek seemed horribly long, like a looping image of destruction and smoke, and Seven became almost blind to it, though he would picture it easily for many years to come. His grasp on Thalassa's tail was tight enough to hurt his jaw, and only one word swam through his mind now. "Cascade."

He hadn't even processed that they had drawn away from the attackers until Thalassa paused to catch her breath. He almost bumped into her, as much of a trance as his self-preservation had placed him into, but stopped just in time. He blinked slowly up at her, as if one just waking up. The tail strand fell from his mouth, and he looked around. The trees felt like a wall around him, and he had never felt so secure. A distant rumble spoke of the terror they had escaped, and he looked backward towards Inaria. Luckily he could not see it from his current vantage point, though he strained his eyes for a moment. A sudden bout of coughing, brought on by the unheeded inhalation of fresh air, brought him around. His throat felt raw, and his eyes burned. The deep cut on his belly felt matted and tight, and his muscles throbbed. But despite all of that, the foal felt more at ease than he had since before the solstice celebration.

The flea-bitten colt tried to reply to the cleric, but talking in his normal, loud pitch produced little but a rasp. "I'm ok," he finally managed to whisper, hoping they might come across some water soon. The rest of her words were background noise to him, though, as a whisper pricked at his ears that he had heard months before. It pulled at his chest, the heavy weight of the tear necklace a tangible source of his belief, as he felt called into the Wilds. Suddenly all remnants of his fear were washed away. His goddess was calling him home, and he knew now that she had promised to protect him.

It was all he could do to wait on the more hesitant horses as the group picked their way through the foliage. He oscillated between trotting ahead, and standing still to wait as the other caught up. His eyes were wide, their stinging forgotten, and locked on the path ahead. He would not have been able to pick it out based on landmarks - he simply knew it, as if he had walked every day of his life, and not only the twice. Not a hint of apprehension crossed the young colt's mind - even the cassowary from their last trip to the temple seemed a dewdrop compared to the typhoon they had just survived. Again, the only thought that crossed his mind was "Cascade" but this time it was a call like a child returning home, and not a plea for help.

When the trees broke and the ruins of the temple appeared before him the foal gave up all restraint. He broke forward, his tired limbs forgotten as he clambered up the stairs and into the nave. Even the strange pictures on the walls went momentarily unnoticed. Seven slipped and tripped over pebbles, but did not slow until he reached the foot of the grand statue that overlooked the temple's remains. In one, oddly graceful move the colt stopped and crumpled at the fin of the goddess. Exhaustion overtook him completely, and he lay under Cascade's gaze once more. His sides heaved, and his muscles shook intensely. But he did not cry now. He was in Cascade's presence, and he had nothing to fear.


(Post 5: 662 words)