He hurt. It seemed simple enough, but for some reason, it wasn't simple. Something was twisted, warped.
Keighven raised his head, peering around groggily. Where was he?
A stable – the musky odor of horse and leather felt comfortingly familiar. Companions – was he in the tack shed? Keighven didn't leap to his feet – more like he inched his way there, not trusting the throbbing in the back of his head or the feeling of jelly in his legs where muscles should be.
There was a clipping sound of hooves on hard stone. He turned – came face-to-face with a young woman in a strange set of skin tight clothing. She barely gave him a second glance, ushering the horse she was leading past him as he turned to merge with the walls to avoid getting squished.
Her appearance had jogged something in his memory, an image of a white horse – no not a horse – a Companion.
And a name. Gryphon.
Keighven mindsent for him, but there was nothing. No thoughts, no presence tingling at the back of his conscious thought.
An angry squeal and a clattering of hooves nearly startled him out of his skin. He turned to follow the noise, having no idea where he was going, much less why, but moving seemed to get rid of self-doubt.
In a large, well-made stall, a huge silver-white stallion paced back and forth. His mane was tied up in exotic fashion and on his flanks sparkled a slowly fading image – that of the mythical phoenix spreading its wings in flight from rebirthing fires.
Keighven reached forward and the stallion spun around, his teeth bared.
Their eyes met.
"Watcha think yer doin', boy?" a man cried, pulling Keighven back by the collar of his shirt. "That there brute's vicious!"
"Relax Bonden," a female voice cut across, dryly. "It's Kevin. That stallion wouldn't hurt Kevin if he were drugged and stuck with red hot pokers."
Keighven turned around. A young woman with golden brown hair stood, casually balancing a helmet between her hand and her hip. She grinned at him.
"Well, it's nice to see you're up and about again, Kev," she commented. "After you were thrown, the doctors said they weren't sure if you'd walk again, much less ride."
Keighven shook his head a little.
"Too much too fast, huh?" the young woman asked. "Well, I'll leave you and Gryph alone for a bit. I have to exercise Riverdancer – he's refusing to act sane today. I'll catch you later." She clapped him genially on the shoulder and disappeared out the door, leaving Keighven awestruck in her wake.
Thrown? Accident? The most accident he could remember… Something dragging him from home here. Gate a voice whispered in his head. A Gate.
He opened the metal gate slowly now that the old man who'd barked at him and the young woman were both gone. Then he slipped inside between the opening to be with the wild stallion.
Right away, he seemed to calm down.
Is that really you, Gryphon? he tried to send, but the link was as dead as before.
"Gryphon?" he whispered.
Was it his imagination or did the stallion perk up his ears a bit at that?"
"Can you understand me?"
A definite confirmation now. The stallion bobbed his head violently. Keighven wrapped his arms around Gryphon's neck.
"Where the hell are we?" he asked.
Gryphon snorted, then swung his head from side to side.
"You don't know either? Damn." Keighven sighed. "Can you mindspeak me?"
Gryphon wuffled regretfully.
"How about anyone else?"
Another headshake.
"Any idea how we got here? I mean, I know there was a Gate, or something like that…" he trailed off, sensing Gryphon's attention wasn't on him any longer. Keighven turned to see a pair of adolescent males staring at him in open admiration.
The black-haired one punched the brunette on the shoulder and proclaimed, "Told you!"
The two of them took a step closer to the stall. Gryphon delicately bared his teeth.
They whitened and backed off.
Keighven put a hand on Gryphon's shoulder as a silent request for him to behave. Then, he let himself out of the stall.
"Who are you?" he asked.
The blonde haired boy smiled a bit. "I'm Sam."
Sam's friend ducked his head a bit. "Mack." Mack looked up, his face filled with intense curiosity. "Are you Kevin?"
Sam poked him in the arm before Keighven could respond.
"Ow!" Mack moaned.
Sam ignored him, staring over Keighven's shoulder at Gryphon who had resumed pacing.
"Are you two ever going to compete again?" he asked, rather wistfully in Keighven's opinion. "I loved watching the two of you on the jumping course…"
Keighven smiled stiffly.
"Three time national champions," Sam whispered, his voice a prayer. "I wish you'd get back up and ride. After Taver – " he stopped talking and colored.
Keighven couldn't fathom why.
"S-sorry," Sam stuttered, then poked Mack again. "C'mon or we're gonna be late."
The two of them raced off. Keighven watched them go, feeling like there was something disconnected and so very wrong about this whole thing. Like a horse with two heads and three feet – too much on one side of an equation and not enough on the other.
"Gryphon," he whispered, feeling incredibly depressed despite himself. "What am I going to do?"
"I'll tell you what you not going to do," a voice answered him. "You're not going to panic or act like there's anything out of the ordinary going on."
He turned around slowly, not daring to believe. He knew that voice, had known it from the time of his first memories. It didn't matter that in two years he hadn't heard it – his mind knew.
"Sonya?" he asked, disbelievingly as he turned around to face her. It was. Dressed in strange clothing, perhaps a bit older, but unmistakably her.
He came forward slowly, hardly daring to believe it, hand outstretched, waiting for the fog of an illusion to beak. But it didn't and her warm hand met his before she scooped him up into a hug.
"So, fighter?" Sonya asked, "how have you been?"
The impossibility of what was happening and the sincere hope that this was all just a dream battled in Keighven's mind. On the one hand, an old friend one whom he hadn't seen for far too long. On the other, the possibility of a life he had just begun to accept, destroyed before he had a chance to fully embrace it.
"Is this real?" he finally found the courage to ask.
"As real as the snow," Sonya answered him.
"Then I supposed I'd better start figuring out what's going on," he said reluctantly letting go of her. They both sat on bales of hay.
"So," Keighven began, wondering what type of soil his questions would turn up this time – "Where are we, and what in the nine hells is going on?"
Author's Note: I know I said I wasn't going to put it up until Friday (is anyone actually complaining?), but I just figured out that I'm not actually going to be around a computer until next Monday after today, so I figured I'd get it up now. Anyways, I hope you all like the first chapter of the new ficlet. It's still in the works, so if anything jumps out screaming "I'm Screwed Up!" let me know and I'll serenade you in my notes later for keeping me honest. I think that's it - review!