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⋆ ݁. 𓍊𖠰𖥧 . 𓍊𓋼 𖠰 ݁↟ 𓃦 𖡼. 𖤣𖥧 𖠰. ݁
Stumbling through the brush, Saparata wondered where he had gone wrong. He had been careful this time, had tried to stay out of trouble, but it clung to him like a burr. His house on a cliff, meant to shield him from all this, had been his own undoing, judgement raining down from the heavens.
He had been running for hours now. The adrenaline was losing its hold, leaving behind a shudder that seized his entire body. Saparata tripped on a stray tree root, sending him into a fall into the ground, face saved by a hand thrown in front of him into the mud and leaves. His palm stung with the force, red and raw. He wondered if he would live to see it heal.
He sighed. Here was as good a place to stop as any. No matter where he ran, they were bound to find him eventually. The trees were beginning to thin out to make way for the coast, leaving a little outcrop that wasn’t quite sand and wasn’t quite grass. Reorienting himself, Saparata emptied his pockets, filled with only a few useful items. He hadn’t had time to grab anything before being chased from his house. Flint and steel, a few loose stones, an iron ingot, some string, and of course his sword, sheathed on his back, out of the way. The last thing he pulled out was a single golden apple, luminescent in the fading sunlight.
After a brief foray back into the forest he came from, Saparata had found enough kindling to construct a small campfire, and had gathered a few medium sized stones from his pocket to place beside it, intending to catch and roast a fish or two for dinner. He should save the apple; he might need it later.
𓆟. ° .• .𓆝 .• ° . 𓆟 . ° .• .𓆞
Saparata was never spear fishing again. Nasty business. Very soggy. He’d be lucky if his sword didn’t rust somehow. He deboned the single fish he had caught best he could, then placed it by the fire to grill. Staring at the fish as it writhed had hit him too close to home (too far from home); they were just the same, both caught in the trap of some being that had decided one life was worth less than another.
Sitting by the fire with soaked robes all about him, the points of bone in the fish’s body took him back to that room, to bodies speared on spikes as tall as their victims, all twisted and dripping with blood. The dead silence made way for a ringing in his ears, screams rising up from bodies no longer all around him. He felt ill, he couldn’t eat this fish, he couldn’t go back, he couldn’t–
A whinny broke him out of his rumination. What the hell? A horse? Was there a rider? Had he been discovered? It sounded close, there was no way he’d be able to get away in time, he needed to get up, he needed to start running again–
A great big silhouette loped out from between the trees. A lone horse, no rider on its back. Wild. Saparata let out a sigh of relief. He was safe. His heart took a moment to regain his resting pulse.
Saparata didn’t know a lot about horses, but this one seemed pretty small, especially compared to the ones he’d seen back home, cart horses six feet tall pulling produce down cobbled streets. It had a dark coat, merging into the shadows cast by the foliage, and some sort of white stripe down its face like a sunspot, blending softly out into the brown fuzz of its nose. It plodded towards his camp, hooves soft against the sand-soil terrain, eyes fixed on the man. And what eyes it had, black and deep and soulful. Saparata was suddenly overcome with an emotion he couldn’t name, looking into the animal’s curious gaze.
The horse came to a stop in front of the campfire and lowered itself to rest on folded legs. It seemed at ease. Saparata felt a deep twisting sensation in his heart. He prodded at the fish on the stone, wafting the smell of lightly charred meat into the air. Maybe it would leave?
The horse stared. Saparata stared back. The horse blinked. Saparata blinked back. The horse threw its head back and snorted, mane waving around its face. Saparata decided not to reciprocate this time. The horse remained in place.
“So, uh, what are you doing here?”
The horse did not respond.
“Right. Horse.” Kind of stupid talking to someone who couldn’t talk back.
They sat together in silence; the horse didn’t seem to have anywhere urgent to be. The fish by the fire finished cooking. Saparata stayed sat on the fallen log as he ate, trying to avoid eye contact with the ever staring horse. He received a snort for his efforts. A few minutes passed before he spoke again.
“I know you can’t really speak, but, uh, I’m here because of an assassination.” (The self-consciousness had got to him; he had to say something.) “Well, more than one, to be honest.” Saparata half expected the horse to be judging him, but it remained placid as ever. “I was hosting a meeting with a bunch of world leaders about this, uh, Jophiel lady… I don’t suppose you know what a queen is? I was supposed to be ‘neutral territory,’ I guess. That just means I got dragged into a bunch of politics I had nothing to do with. I mean, you’re in a similar position right now, aren’t you? You don’t care about any of this.”
The horse fluttered its eyelashes, thick above its doe (mare??) eyes. If Saparata imagined it talking, it would probably say something like “I’m a horse, I don’t even understand, why would I care?” but chances are he was just projecting. Either way, it didn’t object to him continuing.
“The meeting was going fine, but out of nowhere loads of dripstone fell from the ceiling. All these crazy important guys, just dead. Right in front of me. In my house! I didn’t even have time to defend myself, they just came at me, swords out–”
The horse startled a little, shrinking back, and Saparata realised he had raised his voice, getting more and more frantic as the sentence went on. The horse’s ears were pinned to its head, though one flicked as he made the observation. The horse looked apprehensive (as apprehensive as a horse can look, at least), and a wave of shame washed over the man.
“I didn’t kill them, I swear! I’m innocent.” At this, the horse looked dolefully back up at him, and gave a soft neigh. If he didn’t know any better, Saparata would have said it looked… trusting. But that was ridiculous. It was just a horse. It probably didn’t even understand what he was saying. Either way, he felt a little less cold in the horse’s warm glare.
“I just don’t understand who would do this… I don’t exactly have any enemies. Or, I didn’t a few hours ago. It might be more appropriate to say I don’t have any friends now. I’m wanted by the entire world.” Saparata wasn’t going to cry, but if his eyes were a little damp at the corners, that was no-one’s business but his own. He looked down into his lap, not avoiding the horse’s telling look, per se, but…
Okay, he was avoiding it.
There was a shuffling sound, and Saparata looked up at the horse, which was beginning to stand. Even a horse didn’t want to hang out with him, huh? But defying all expectations, the horse came towards him, stepping carefully around the campfire.
“Want some fish? I’m all out buddy.” Saparata was confused. The horse did not react, and walked closer still. It was a little scary honestly, even a small horse is quite big when you’re sitting down after all. He considered backing away (was he about to get run over by a horse??), but something inside told him to stay.
The horse came to a stop right in front of him. It craned its neck, and Saparata closed his eyes, reflexively bracing for impact. In the dark, he felt a soft warm pressure at his cheek. There was a gentle force behind it, but it was stable more than overpowering. The tears from before started to come back, threatening to spill; the presence of this one good thing was more than he could handle right now. Breathing in the salty air at the edge of the water, sunlight warming his back, and the horse close, he felt at peace for a moment.
Peace which was quickly shattered as the horse tilted its head, causing whiskers to brush his ear. Saparata’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed the horse by the muzzle. “Hey buddy, that tickles! Ah- Stop!” The horse snorted, almost as if it was chuckling out a laugh, and continued nudging him, the man’s efforts ineffectual. They both laughed together, man and horse, under the golden light streaming from the Sun’s last rays.
Saparata couldn’t remember the last time he’d been happy like this. (Well, maybe he could. Laughing with a friend under the boiling Sun, dark hair in his periphery… but those days were over. The mood soured for a moment; he found the corners of his mouth downturned. He averted his thoughts.)
“Horses like apples, right?”
The horse relaxed in its pursuit of his cheek, moving back a step. It had clearly perked up upon the mention of food. It tilted its head to the side like a curious puppy.
Saparata snorted and reached into his pocket, pulling out the last of his rations, the pristine golden apple. The horse’s pupils seemed to grow three sizes. It shuffled closer, eyes fixed on the gleaming surface.
“Oh, so you’re only here for food huh?” Saparata knew somehow this wasn’t the case, but he said it anyway. He held out the apple in his hand and moved it towards the horse, who snuffled it up, grabbing the apple between its lips and biting down. Saparata grimaced a little at the juice (and potentially saliva) running down his palm (as well as the downright… weird way the horse’s mouth moved. Why was it like that???) but ultimately he was still in a good mood from their little moment earlier, so he let it slide.
After a minute or two of unsettling crunching sounds, the horse whinnied in thanks (or at least what he assumed was thanks) and moved to nudge his cheek again. Saparata rested his hand on the horse’s nose apologetically before it could get there; there was no way he was letting that gross mouth all covered in apple froth near his face. It seemed like the horse understood, bobbing its head and turning away.
A warm coloured sheen formed on the horse’s coat in the evening light, rippling as the horse adjusted its stance. It seemed a little restless, like it was itching to go frolic in a field or something, whatever horses did. Who was Saparata to judge? It appeared their time together was coming to an end. The horse was wild, after all; it probably wasn’t used to sitting still for so long.
Despite this, it seemed reluctant to leave. The horse turned back to look at Saparata, apology blatant in its shining eyes.
“It’s alright buddy, I don’t mind. Go back to your horsey friends. I’d join you if I could.” Saparata smiled, and reached out to pat the horse firmly on its shoulder. At least one of them would be free. The horse snorted one last time before turning towards the forest from whence it came. It walked slowly away, but didn’t look back. Saparata resolved to do the same. The Sun sank gradually closer to the horizon. There was no point looking to the past, thinking about times when things were better; he could only move forwards.
If he stayed on the run, he would live out the rest of his days a criminal, fugitive from the island that he had loved and that had loved him in return. His only chance at a future he would not resent was to prove his innocence.
He needed to think back on the past for just a moment longer, to build a case that could salvage the scraps of his reputation. He didn’t exactly have a lawyer, after all. Who could have done this? When would they have had the chance? What enemies did he have? He had been nothing but friendly–
The nasty thought tugging at the corners of his mind resurfaced. There was one person. Someone he had trusted, someone he had let inside (his head, his home), someone who had stuck beside him. It was awful to consider (how could he do this to him; how could he turn him in?) but it was the only option. He had nothing else. Nothing but the sword at his back and the friend moving further and further away.
So with the Sun down and the horse gone, and only the mercurial Ish to watch over him, Saparata sat alone on the edge of the forest, staring out at the shore. Tomorrow he would turn himself in. Tomorrow.
⋆ ݁. 𓍊𖠰𖥧 . 𓍊𓋼 𖠰 ݁↟ 𓃦 𖡼. 𖤣𖥧 𖠰. ݁