Diantha's Gate

3

The nights that followed my encounter had been sleepless, but, for the first time in weeks, this had  not been due to the horrors that usually found me at bedtime. 

The centaur boy, Aemion, returned faithfully, and every night was spent sitting in the grass by my prized tree swing, built by my dad for my fourth birthday.  This had been the preferred haunt of the Faceless Man, but my new friend had persuaded me to join him here when we met, and no fearful experiences had ever followed.

Many arguments were to be had in those first few nights, Aemion working hard to convince me that he was not just a part of my very active imagination.  While I hadn't been  easy to sway, I never complained too heartily, as Aemion was almost certainly the reason I was no longer encountering pure terror in my sleep.  Inexplicably, it seemed that the two couldn't visit me at the same time; therefore, my  indignation evolved into resignation, and I learned to see the Darkness as a master of magic and play rather than one of  fear and pale faces. 

My sleep schedule still suffered, but I no longer minded. My mom was still attributing my exhaustion to sleepless nights in torment, but I couldn't correct her assumption.  I needed my new friend.

My nights transformed into weeks, and Summer had quickly emerged, signaling the conclusion of my first school year.  I'd spent every night for a month and a half in Aemion's company.

In those first weeks, play had been a sufficient distraction from the hundreds of questions that I'd been cramming into the back of my mind. I had so many, but there was never time to ask. One night, as Aemion gently pushed me on my swing, I found myself overwhelmed with all of the things I suddenly wanted to know.

"Is it hard to be a centaur?" I'd settled on this one.  The question seemed like one that could encompass a multitude of inquiries regarding his ability to.... well, to be; I was so confused by how one might perform the simplest of accomplishments in such a state.  How did he lie down comfortably and sleep? What would he do if he needed to crawl in tight spaces? How could he maneuver easily at all? 

I mean, he could do some really exotic things I wasn't capable of, certainly.  I envied plenty of his abilities; he could experience life in a way that I would never be able to.  I too wanted to gallop at full speed, my stamina never hindering me.  I wanted to find a map within the stars.  I wanted to be wild and free, relying only on the earth to support me.

He'd  looked at me as though he'd never once considered this.  "I guess, sometimes," he said, shrugging his shoulders.  "I don't really know; I've never been anything else."

That made sense.

"Is it hard to be human?" he'd  asked in turn. 

"Yeah, sometimes," I confessed.

"One day, I'll know what it's like. To be fully human, if I want."  His voice had been contemplative and boyishly energetic.

"What do you mean? You're going to be a human when you grow up?" I'd  turned around in my swing, confusion knitting my brows. 

"No," he replied in a voice that said, 'what kind of ridiculous question is that?.' 

"Well, I guess sort of.  When a centaur turns sixteen, he can transform whenever he wants."

"Whoa," I breathed.  Why?"

He'd shrugged his shoulders again. "I don't know- I just know that's how it works.  My father says it's only for very important things, like if you need to hide or blend in or something, but I'm going to do it all the time."

"Do you think that I can be a centaur when I'm sixteen?"  I was bubbling with excitement, hope. If I too could change, the possibilities would be endless.  I could play with Aemion as much as I wanted, as hard as I wanted, any time I wanted.  I could capture the wind in my hair and run with a purpose I'd never known before.  I could...