Author: DT Maxwell
Rating: PG
Warning(s): None! This is safe to read by those who have read the trilogy and those who haven't. Some sadness, though, for reasons you shall see at the end.
Disclaimer: If owned the trilogy, do you think I'd be writing fanfiction? As always, the FT is the intectual property of Meredith Ann Pierce; I'm just borrowing her characters.
Notes: For the general fanfiction challenge at the First Circle Forum. Now if only the plot bunnies would bite for my original works...
The stallion quietly walked a path he had memorized long ago, his eyes half-closed. Every placement of cloven heels was careful, testing the ground for any loose stones or soil that could cause him to stumble. He was old, very old, a unicorn who had seen much change overtake the world since his earliest days. His bones weren't as strudy as they used to be, apt to break or shatter at the slightest misstep, and he was almost completely blind, a fact he found somewhat amusing. Yet still he came to this place, everyday, without accompanyment, sure that he would reach his destination safe and sound.
Familiar scents whafted into his nostrils, and the unicorn took a deep breath, letting it out again with a soft sigh. The milkwood trees were dropping their leaves, he could feel the silvery-green foliage settling onto his swayed back, and the tiny buds growing would bloom come summer, as they always did. An ever unchanging cycle in an ever changing world, the stallion thought.
Suddenly he could feel the sun's rays on his back, and he knew he had arrived. Smiling, he halted and lowered himself to the sandy bank, resting his bearded chin on knobby forelegs. There was nothing in all of creation that soothed him more than the presence of the Mirror of the Moon. He could still faintly see the light bouncing off the still sacred pool, knew that if he supped from its waters the taste would be sweet on his tongue.
He flicked one ear at the sound of rushling underbrush and smiled as a familiar presence, just as old as he, settled beside him. "Good dawn," the stallion murmured.
"Good dawn," the mare replied. "You beat me here today."
He barely stiffled a chuckle. "It's not often I do, so allow me a bit of smugness." She hmp'ed, and this time he did laugh. She nipped hard at the base of his ears, but it was without malice, and the pair settled into a comfortable silence.
"We are the last, you know," she murmured. "The last of a generation that saw the end of an age and the birth of another." The stallion nodded, leaned against his companion and sighed.
"Are they ready?"
The mare rolled her eyes, even though the other unicorn couldn't see. "You ask that every time."
"And I will continue to ask. Are they ready?"
She paused, then sighed. "Yes. Yes, they are. They will rule wisely and well. But I shall miss them."
The stallion nuzzled her cheek. "Ah, but where we are going, we will be able to watch over and be with them always. This is our twilight and it is ending, as the dawn is beginning for another. It is the balance, the Mother's cycle. Our children understand that, and our grandchildren, too, and our great-grandchildren will as well."
"And so the dance of the world goes on, twisting and turning as it always as, until the sun sets for the last time," the mare said.
The pair exchanged smiles. "And so the time comes," they intoned together, still smiling, and settled against each other, closing their eyes one last time.
So they were found late in the evening by worried search parties, the twin seers Aiony and Dhatter, having ascended the starpath to frolick beside the summer stars for all time.