A/N: This is a fantasy AU short inspired by the Bat for Lashes song "Horse and I."

Horse and I

The smell of redwood giants.
The banquet for the shadows.
Horse and I, we're dancers in the dark.

The girl wasn't sure what had woken her. She usually slept so soundly, even in the midst of the woodland they traveled. Early on, so early on, she had figured out that the armor would keep her safe, even in sleep, and she let herself rest. Their road was long, the days full of toil; she took what rest she could get. Perhaps it was a snapping twig, broken by a careless woodland creature, of a gust of wind through the leaves that had brought her back to awareness. Whatever it was, Maka could not go back to sleep, so she sat up. Her gaze moved to the sky. It was a cloudless night, the moon full and round and perfect. A night just like the one in which it had all began. She let her eyes stray down from the beauty of the night, seeking the reassuring presence of her horse, her one loyal companion on this long, fruitless journey, and started when she realized the creature was no longer tied to the tree where she had left him. She began to rise, a puzzled frown working her way onto her features.

The horse had been her sole companion, given to her along with the sword and armor when her journey began. The creature was uncanny in his perceptiveness, warning her of danger long before she could sense it, comforting her when she felt most lost, listening to her and almost seeming to respond as she puzzled through this strange trek, this task she still did not really quite understand. It had been there that night, there on the riverbank as the disembodied voices sung her fate, a part of the gifts to the chosen one given of the shadows and the light. She had named him Soul, the name a whisper in her mind from somewhere at the very edges of consciousness. Somehow, it just seemed right.

Soul was her one constant now, always with her, always there, always right where she left him. With his sleek white coat and mane, piercing, otherworldly red eyes, and teeth far too sharp to be normal for his kind, the powerful warhorse was her battle companion and friend. Yet now, he was gone, and for the first time in months she was utterly alone. The fear washed over her in waves. He was tied to the tree. He should be here. Right here. And yet, he was nowhere. She drew her blade with a quiet snick; her armor she slept in, always ready, the magic within making it light as a feather, comfortable as any soft clothing. Something was wrong. Very, very wrong. She padded over to where the horse had stood, silently, carefully. The rope was on the ground, untied, hoof prints the only sign the creature had ever been there. The hoof prints made a trail into the woods and she followed it. She needed to find her horse, her Soul.

As she walked, the sharp, musty smell of the redwoods surrounded her, invading her senses with every step. She alternated between keeping her eyes on the trail of prints before her and raising them to scan the forest all around her. She had no sense of danger as she should were it present—yet what if the armor wasn't working? She needed to be cautious. She needed to know what had happened to her horse. She reached a small clearing and the hoof prints vanished, yet there was no horse. Her frown deepened. It made no sense. Only magic could explain it, which worried her. This threat must be dire indeed. She looked around where the trail had gone cold and noticed human footprints. They had not come with the horse prints, yet they started where the horse prints ended. She shook her head, her confusion mounting.

"Where are you Soul? What happened here?" She said it softly to herself, yet heard a rustling from somewhere above almost in answer. She looked up into the thick canopy of evergreens blanketing the sky above her, attempting vainly to peer into the darkness. She thought for the barest instant she caught a flash of white among the branches, but it was surely a trick of the shadows.

She let out a sigh of frustration, of despair. Gone. Her horse, her only companion through this long, lonely journey was gone and she was alone in the black. The despair threatened to choke her and she balled her free fist, willing it away, willing herself to think. There must be some answer. Soul had not just disappeared, could not have simply disappeared. She heard another rustling, this one closer by, and peered once again into the tree before her. This time, she was sure she saw white, barely visible in the shadow, a shape vaguely reminiscent of a man taking form under the scant moonlight admitted by the thick canopy of redwoods above her.

"Who…who's there? Did you take Soul? Did you see who took him?" She called out to the person, or perhaps to nothing since the shape could as well been a trick of the eyes.

She heard a sigh, unmistakable, from the few feet above her where the shadow rested and knew it for no trick, then tightened her hand on the hilt of her sword.

"Nobody took your horse." The shadow finally spoke. His voice was deep and rumbling. Maka took one step back, and then another, raising her sword in front of her.

"Who…who are you? Do you know what happened? How do you know no one took him?" She tried to sound commanding, but she knew her voice was shaking. She felt so alone, exposed and helpless without her constant companion even with the sword she wielded and the armor she wore.

She heard more rustling, watched as the shadow shimmied down the tree to stand a scant few feet away. In the faint moonlight she could see stark white hair and what looked like, but surely could not be, bright red eyes. A dark cloak obscured the rest of him. She kept her sword raised, kept several feet of distance between them.

"I know," he said very quietly, his intense gaze never leaving her own. "because I am Soul."

"No," she whispered, "that's not possible," even as the change in tracks, even as his white hair and those piercing eyes came together in her mind, even as the feel of his very presence screamed truth to her. She began to back further away from him. She had to get out of here. This wasn't right. This must be a dream. Her horse… her only friend…

He was reaching out for her.

"Maka…" he breathed, "you need to calm down. You need to listen." She panicked, whirled around, made to sprint into the dark forest, and found her head smacking against a thick, low limb she had not seen, had not even been looking to see, in the inky black surrounding them. Her head spun and she felt consciousness slipping away, felt strong arms reach for her and catch her before she could fall, felt the blackness take her, and hoped if this was not her horse that this was a dream because she was now at the mercy of a stranger.