Desreal: Courage

It was dark and Delilah slipped carefully and quietly from the tiny cluster of brambles under which her small foal slept. She knew he slept well, stirring only when the sullen moan of a curlew trespassed into the untouchable fantasies of his dreams, and hardly expected to wander beyond the very centre of the night hours. She peered back quietly and found herself ducking down to see the dark mass of his body, sheltered by tangles heavily pricked branches, undisturbed and motionless.

The young mother turned then, and proceeded away from her only child and into the eerie darkness that clouded the Glade. She followed a narrow and winding trail, one that she had not set foot on for nearly a year. Delilah knew that eventually it would veer east and if she remained only upon this dusty track, she would find herself stepping upon the strange sandy loam of Solira. She would not return to the ocean country though, Fanotme was no longer a prisoner and not a soul had passed an interested eye over her.

Absently, her face hung low to the ground and the dust which stirred from each of her lazy steps breezed forward with the subtle night breeze. She did not close her eyes, instead letting the tiny fragments of dirt stain them. Tears welled then, though the bay did not cry, she couldn’t despite the grimness of her usually bright heart. A state of lonely confusion had settled across her slumped shoulders, and so she isolated herself often from the comfort and concern of her peers. Perhaps, this was cruelty for Casper often shied away from the contact of other horses.

She did not notice the other mare; her discontent cast a thick blinding veil across her senses and only the sound of the stranger’s fragile voice roused her into reality. Her breath caught suddenly in her throat as her eyes sought through the heavy dark, the source. Two eyes, shining blue in the soft moonlight met her gaze and they remained locked until the horses were standing one before the other. Delilah’s eye was caught by the shimmer of flaxen mane. “No,” She sighed gently, “I was not startled…” Delilah half-smiled; though her slim black muzzle blended easily into the blackness. Courage on the other hand, glowed pale and beautiful when ever the leaves allowed shafts of light to pass.

“I am Delilah.” She replied finally, but did not extend her nose peacefully like once she normally would’ve. She did not speak of her home, there was not a chance as the sadness of the other mare infiltrated her own emotional state. Delilah listened both patiently and quietly as Courage revealed her intentions and a slither of the history which seemed to be stemming the grief in her shaking voice; glassy eyes. Delilah had previously heard many stories much like this; she was a kind mare and one whose compassion often reached out to the crying souls of others. This time though, she felt as though she might simply burst into tears as well.

“That is just terrible young Courage…” She cooed softly, touched by the pure flood of passion and emotion. She could see that the pale horse was younger, and stepped forward to offer a comforting embrace. She lifted the exaggerated weight of her mind up and over the other’s neck, caressing the warm steamy fur where her chin rested. “You are brave to still call him your father.” She paused thoughtfully, wondering if she herself possessed that sentiment. Certainly in this state it would be rare. “It would seem that he is not fit for the title.” Delilah thought quickly of the foal which lay a distance away on his own. “You mentioned that he is from Andarin, pray tell me, what is his name?”

Delilah imagined the stallion to be much like Kale had been... arrogant and self centred.

Delilah
unranked | lightning III + aurora australis | andarin