The Fall
Chapter 2: Yellow Horse
She knew, or some part of her did—there's a point at which one breaks. Some point, however far away, was the limit.
Moth ran till she didn't know where she was. To her, virtually the whole island was made up of jungles and rivers and meadows she didn't recognize; all she knew was her home and a collection of snaky dirt paths winding through trees of a million species and leading nowhere. And on the island, there were a lot of different little nowheres where she spent her time. The last of her time.
In one nowhere, there was the sprawling skeleton of an ice-age mammal sealed in an enormous stone, bigger than her house, bigger than anything but the most gargantuan of banyan trees. She went there, knowing it was still alive—because nothing dead in Caliosteo was truly dead. The whole place was... restless.
Moth talked to it - there wasn't really anyone else for that. Her brothers knew what was coming; they did since the day she was born, so they kept their distance, most of them—it'd just be harder when she was gone, and they were all so convinced that one day, one day soon, she would be gone.
In a nowhere she didn't recognize, Moth wondered if she'd finally reached her limit. Just briefly, though.
She decided to save her limit for later. For a worse problem. For if she kept running, she'd keep living; the thing on her tail hadn't gained much ground.
But there, in a nowhere, she stopped running. She didn't want to. But her legs seized and she froze and skidded on dirt, lingering in a state of stillness and apathy just long enough to survey her surroundings—trees, no sky, just trees. A worthless observation, a waste of time, and now it would cost her life. The cold was sinking into the gray matter of her brain, touching every thought, calming every nerve. Moth chalked it up to her subconscious knowing she was about to die and her lack of fear was a result of the same.
The sounds of splitting wood and shattering earth couldn't tear through her deadened state of mind; only physical force could knock her down, slam her small existence into the ground where she crouched, subdued into a lack of will to run anymore. Her legs hurt—the only pain the arctic white in her head would let her feel.
Something huge blotted out the rest of reality. The trees around it bent away, branches reaching for entangled trunks, and it was like a mob of people, all arms and legs tearing at other arms and legs in a desperate effort to escape it. But there was no escape from it, not for the trees, rooted to the spot till the end of time.
Moth was still; it wasn't. It burst from the thick foliage of destroyed trees, leaping in a flash of blue and yellow over her head. She had half a second to realize the thing looked like a horse and another half second to realize that that was insane.
It sailed over her head, going way too far for something of its massive size. When its four paws made contact with the earth, it trembled, and Moth waited to see the ground fracture and cave and pull her under.
The equine creature almost toppled with its own weight, giant lion paws sliding over the muddy earth till its flank slammed into another tree trunk, making it shudder. Birds were still pouring into the sky, filling the atmosphere with their warbling terror-songs. The beast lifted its long, thick neck and unleashed a cry of its own, deep and trembling, playing through the earth as much as the air, its power thrumming in the marrow of her bones.
The sound cut off like its vocal cords had snapped. It dropped its horse head and locked its angular blue eyes on her. Moth's mind couldn't get over how huge it was; its forelegs were each near twice as long as she was tall, and the fact that she was crouched on the ground made it bigger.
It was so strange, so foreign. A horse with paws instead of hooves, yellow and navy blue fur instead of black or brown. Human eyes, narrowed in what looked like anger but wasn't. Anger, on an animal's face.
The coldness was like ice. Moth felt things—exhaustion that wasn't hers. A different consciousness, pressing on the edge of her own with a physical weight that fatigued and energized her at the same time. It was comforting, painful, wonderful, terrible, and at once she marveled at the fact she'd lived without it for fourteen years. At once, Moth knew she needed it there, always there.
She looked at the horse creature—not an it but a he—and knew the coldness came from him; knew the skeleton she'd talked to and studied for ages, borne from a stone she'd left shattered on a lakeside, belonged to him.
This was her fossil. She also knew, when he looked at her and saw everything she was and would ever be, he agreed they'd face their deaths together. The final countdown of their lives that would begin in two days.
"I don't think you get it," her brother growled, shoving her shoulder. Not very hard, but it didn't have to be. "Do you understand what you almost did? If they thought you'd run away, do you know what they'd do to us?"
Moth pushed him back. He didn't budge. Just glared. His eyes were the same green as hers but their similarities stopped there. "I'm fine. You're fine. Everything's fine!"
His face contorted in anger, and his arm flashed out towards the rickety table set up in the middle of the floor, reaching for something to throw at her. His hand found nothing, and he sighed in defeat, suddenly slumping. "No. You're wrong. For the next few years, we won't be fine, okay?"
"Yeah?" she snapped, spreading her arms. "The hell am I supposed to do about it? I can't change the law!"
"So you try and run away? Abandon us to die without you? Would you do that, Moth?"
"No," she shrieked. "No!" Pause. Long pause.
Her older brother stared at her with sad eyes. Waiting.
Then, she said, "But I would if—" His expression didn't change. "If I was brave enough. If things like... honor... didn't exist."
"Yeah?" he rasped. Not angry. Not even offended. "I don't blame you, to be honest."
"If you're looking for someone to blame, go find our parents," a voice piped from the thicker shadows near the corner. Moth didn't look towards its source, because she never could anymore. "What were they thinking, having more kids fourteen years ago?"
"Not their thinking, Eri," snapped her older brother. "The birth order had come. They responded like good citizens and the unfortunate result was Moth and the sack of useless flesh I'm talking to."
Dull anger seeped into her veins at his words. Her muscles tensed, her hands curled into fists. "Leave him alone, Cain," she said quietly. Cain rolled his eyes, breathing out angrily at the extremely rude gesture Moth imagined Eri making in his direction.
"Whatever. Look, the important thing right now is figuring out a strategy. The—"
"I think you're forgetting the yellow horse hanging out in our yard," Eri snorted from his corner. "What's wrong with just showing up with that one? It's, like, king-sized. Will flatten the competition, I'm telling you."
Moth smiled, ignoring the thought in her head that said, but I don't want to win. Eri knew. Cain said, "Yeah. Doubt that thing was even meant for her."
"He is," Moth insisted. "Trust me. I know."
"Trusting you is anyone's last mistake, but sure," Cain snorted. "They're supposed to be issued by the palace officials. It probably escaped a convoy. Either way, they'll take care of... 'him.'"
Moth moved and pushed herself onto the fragile table, hoping like she did every time that it'd at least hold till she got off. Every piece of furniture in her house was that way, ancient, unstable, falling apart. Cain was the only one in their family of four that could work—she was a vessel child and had to be unharmed. Eri would've been the same, but he wasn't, and her youngest brother Abel hadn't hit ten, the cutoff age for entrants. So because of that, they had little money. No replacements, just the same furniture for generations.
Their house had three rooms. The main room with their food storage and table, and the two underground rooms. Cain and Abel shared one, she and Eri shared the other. It was always dark, wherever they were. Candles would light it up, sometimes, but that was when they had enough wax to waste some.
"So again. The next order of business is for Moth to develop some kind of strategy. The goal is for us all to come out alive."
Moth hated how lightly Cain talked about what was coming. Like he didn't mind too much one way or the other what happened. Moth knew he did, but…it aggravated her, drove her to madness, somewhere deep inside her mind. She wanted to punch him every time he mentioned it.
"Y'know, I bet half the troops across the islands are having this same conversation," Eri said, sighing. "'Get a strategy! Lose but don't lose! Above all else, come out alive!'" He waved his hands dismissively. Moth looked in his direction long enough to see him do it. "Personally, I think we're going about this all wrong."
"If you disagree, then I definitely think we're doing it right," Cain muttered. "What's your great idea? Better than the last, I hope?"
Moth felt it, Cain felt it. All the warmth instantly sucked out of the room, leaving not coldness to take its place but rather a vast nothing, an emptiness. A void.
"You," Eri hissed, slowly and threateningly. "You shut up."
Moth's twin brother was strange in what he could do. Look at him—and she hadn't in months, but she could remember—he wouldn't seem at all menacing. Just a lanky ginger-haired kid, short like her. Quiet like her. But when he talked, there was something dangerous in his voice. Always. Coiled beneath the surface, a hidden force held back. And when he talked, some of it leaked into the sounds of his words, and it scared her every time.
Eri's last idea was dangerous. Crazy. It was Cain's mistake to bring it up.
"Eri," she rasped quietly, and it was one of those rare occasions when she addressed him personally. "What are you trying to say? What's your idea?"
Another pause. Just shorter this time. "I," he murmured, half to himself. "I don't…it doesn't matter. Never mind."
That was it, that was all he said. Eri didn't leave, but he faded away where he crouched, till there was nothing left of him but a dull silhouette. He did that a lot.
Dinoval - You'll know details when the story provides them. I won't dump everything on the readers at once, and hopefully you'll grow to like my characters as this progresses. Thanks for reviewing!
So I've decided to ask for OCs in this, though whether I use them or not depends on what I get. Basically, if they inspire a new idea/plot thread, they get incorporated. So, then...feel free to put them in a review or PM me or whatever. I think I'll be accepting characters till chapter 10, so there's time.
Anyway, thanks for reading!
-Angel
