MCHC: Darkwoods

MCHC: Darkwoods

friend?

A mare, thin and frail, staring back with frightened eyes. Its gaze flickered; restless, flinching yet fixed on me, while its gangly legs scrambled to push away as it shivered in the cold.

It was too dark to see most of it, but in the gloom I caught it— a shape too slight, too soft. It's a girl.

I hold there, unmoving, unsure what to do. Not a skeleton waiting to stab me in my sleep, not a monster forced into the same barn as me by the rain, but a mare. Harmless, yet my blade still hovers.

It seemed too easy. Perhaps it was a decoy— a cruel trick— and the moment I turn my back it might transform or—

Across from me her chest quivers in shallow uneven breaths. Pitiful whines, half-stifled whinnies that break into coughs, ribs like bowed slats. My grip slackens. Idiot. It's not a threat. It's— no, *she's* just scared.

brrrr

A minute passes, tense, air heavy. Stiff as a statue, stood in a trance, blade loose in my off-hand, fingers twitching.

Reach out. She's scared, I should make her feel safe. I need to make it clear I'm not a threat.

I reach my arm out, then retract. It hits me midway how I look brandishing a big knife while awkwardly dragging my arm back and forth— fumbling the holster as I clumsily reach to sheathe.

"Hey... girl, it's— no, hey it's okay, look I'm— I'm not gonna hurt you, okay?"

My words do little to soothe her— still whining, legs still scrambling to get away from me.

My hands drift, unsure where to rest. Speaking isn't doing much, I'll try... getting closer...?

"Easy girl... s-settle down, I'm— going to take a step closer now, okay?"

She barely reacts, still entirely too panicked

I crouch lower— just a smidge; knees creaking, hands in an awkward splay. I place a foot forward, then the other, boots crunching on small bits of straw. Her breath steadies for just a second, eyes completely fixed on me, watching my every move.

Her eyes being on me, I force a smile. Unnaturally curled lips, cheeks stretched wrong— okay she REALLY didn't like that.

An idea pops into my head, left hand wrapping around me as I hastily rifle through my right pocket. Food, something to offer, a... alright, a portion of crackers.

Inches away, food rested in my palm like some ritualistic offering, I'm completely still, breath caught like if I exhale too loud I might scare her off.

Her head tilts forward. Sniffing, maybe even considering to take some before—

She recoils, ears pinned back tightly against her skull, whines escaping once more. Damnit.

Frostbite

I left not long after, figuring she's not interested. I tried, *uselessly*, taking a step closer, but I think I just made her more scared of me.

I decided I'd just set some down before leaving. MAYBE she'll feel safe enough eventually to crawl forward and take it.

I sit on the floor, back to a *mostly* hole-less wall, awash in the glory of defeat. What's all that damned horse knowledge worth if you can't even tame one in the wild.

I drift— just lightly looking towards the half-rotted rafters, creaking with effort under the strain of the storm. I reach for my jacket, hung upon a stall partition. Still soaked through— gods, it's *freezing*.

I shouldn't, but— it's either this or risking frostbite.

In the corner sits the remnants of an old spit. Probably one of *them* got stuck in here too and had the same thought. It's dangerous, but I'll try stay vigilant, at least as vigilant as I can. I've got plenty of water to douse it if it gets out of hand.

I clear out flammable bits of straw and hay on the floor, soaking a few just to be safe. Flint in hand; hovering over the spit with a few strikes, I set a pile of straw alight, tending to small embers before they blossom into a proper fire. In the pouring rain, even with how dangerous this could be, for now it's nothing but comfort and warmth.

Shfting closer, legs crossed, leaned forward. Under the heat my skin prickles. Numb flesh stinging back to life, the bite of pins and needles. The warmth is shocking at first— then eventually softens. Periodically I shift the position of my jacket around. The sooner it dries, the better.

As firelight licks my face, I hear more sounds from the corner. The scrape of a hoof, huffing with effort. A wrapper tumbles forward, her muzzle pokes out and I see her. Stood up, peeking round her stall, eyeing a source of warmth, yet hesitant. I stay neutral, drinking in the flame. No sudden movements.

She moves forward, a stilted gait, stepping into the light, still distant but close enough to warm up as well. She's wary of me at first, but eases eventually as the warmth soothes her.

In the firelight, her features are more pronounced. My gaze fixes on her. She looks... sublime.

Her coat is dark, shimmering in the glow of the fire, evershifting shades of ash-grey and cobalt blue, smoke-soft and spectral. Subtle streaks and pinpricks of white line her underside; odd shapes and faded constellations, like an eldritch starry night sky, while the rest of her remained bare. Her eyes, glassy and bright, lifelike; catching the fire, reflections like shifting curtains of pale green light.

We remained there, sat by the fire, her seeming to calm down. As time passed, she eventually felt safe enough to rest her eyes.

I figured maybe I should get some sleep too.

Parting clouds

A ray of sunlight hits my face, beaming through a slat in the wall. Slowly I wake, lids clung together tight before peeling. The rain's stopped, water now just idly dropping from the ceiling. She's— gone too, shit where did she—

I jolt up, back immediately straight, eyes darting around for her. For a minute I wonder if she ran off as soon as the storm ended, except the door's still closed. Maybe she—

In the corner, I see her. She's still here, lying back in her stall. Probably moved back as soon as the fire died, which it seems to have awhile ago now. Whew.

Stretching, low satisfied groaning, a sigh of ease. Another day in survived, thanks to a dilapidated barn in the middle of nowhere and a very risky indoor campfire.

Idly gripping my blade, I step to the door, pushing aside the cart and flicking the lock off. With a deep breath, I push the doors open.

The doors open like a book to morning light, world spilling in, at least somewhat bright and somewhat clean.

Outside the grass shimmered wet, slick and gleaming, parts flattened in patches, pressed down by the storm's weight. Each breath carried the sharp green smell of crushed leaves, the rain-born scent of soil and stone.

Trees sagged like they'd been beaten, earth bruised with water. The ground, waterlogged, heavily. Rainwater gathering in big muddy patches of soil and potholes, some likely created by the rain itself.

With the rising sun to my right, the road should be just north of here. I still have barely enough of the infusion for one more night. I'll wait for everything to dry up for now, find something to eat, maybe patch up some holes— secure the barn a bit.

Maybe I can get our friend in the barn to warm up to me— just a little.