Blind Hope

The gloom of twilight filled the space of the horse's practically empty bedroom. The fan that centered the ceiling turned slowly, casting shadows that danced along the walls from the slow movements. A soft sigh escaped past his lips as he stood facing an open window, the cool dry winter air stinging his skin. A shaky hand reached outward. He was shivering. Slowly lifting to fumble around in an attempt to draw the curtains closed. He didn't dare reach out the window to close the damn thing, so this would have to do. The moon that had risen illuminated his features. If it wasn't for the bandages protecting his eyes — he was sure his colorless orbs would shine a pale blue in this lighting. The light disappeared as the curtains finally drew closed, total darkness chased any light that had remained. It didn't matter, he couldn't see, so who needed light?

Pony turned on his heels — weak legs slowly finding their way to the opposite side of the room. His arms were out forward, catching the surface of his dresser. His fingers rested there for a moment before gliding his palm along the edge, using the surface as his guide. He stepped forward slowly, hands leaving the surface of the dresser, as they met a wall, his bare toes running into the trim of the base molding. He should have learned by now to just leave his shoes on.

"Fuck!" Pony cursed to himself in a whisper, getting his teeth together. He rested his forehead on the cool wall, his squiggly hair falling forward to hide his face. The horse was without sight for a while now. All the events leading up to the moment they blinded him were a haze. His blood had been boiling. He was angry. Adrenaline kicking in and without a second thought, he'd acted on his impulses. Rushing forward, getting between the TSP and the zebra. Pony would not sit there and not do anything. He would not let Willow try to get into the zebra's head — she would not take Zizzy from him.

After watching as he'd sacrificed himself to save Zizzy, stopping Willow from taking her — two TSP members had felt the wolf's measures were extreme. Her hatred running deep for the horse, she'd lashed out and caused severe abrasions to his eyes. The whole sight had been brutal. They weren't sure if he'd make a full recovery or not. Katie, she was one of the two that had come along, worried about how serious the injuries had been. One eye was more damaged than the other. His odds were slim, but if he took proper care — there was hope he could regain sight in at least one of his eyes. The second member was Kitty. She didn't want to be left alone without her friend. Both of them had joined after he'd left the group himself, so he had little of a bond with either of the two cats.

Pony was still getting adjusted to his surroundings. Navigating alone at night was tricky. He was stubborn and independent, rarely asked for help from others unless he desperately needed it. Occasionally Katie would stop by to check his progress, but he preferred to be alone. Zizzy had to pick up the slack in his absence, taking Kitty along as support — he felt useless. He'd have rather broken a bone or lost his hearing, but of course, it had to be his sight — the irony. He used to be an optometrist and helped Mimi with her own sight, but now here he was. Unable to see, useless, and becoming more of a burden than anything to those around him.

His hands moved along the wall, reaching for the doorframe of the bathroom as he pulled himself through the door. Pony quickly finding the light switch as he flicked it up, dim lighting filled the space — the ventilation fan rattled on with it. It rang in his ears, buzzed, and vibrated against the ceiling. The horse was sensitive to sounds, and his other senses worked double to make up for what he lacked in eyesight. His body shivered once again. He was cold, his body ached from prolonged bed rest and silently he was kicking himself for being so weak.

Pony shook his head slightly, hands grasping the countertop of the sink. Finding the toilet, he closed the lid, sitting on top for a moment to rest his legs. Inhaling a sharp, deep breath — thoughts wandered. This new home was better set up than the safe place. Each bedroom came with its own bathroom, almost like a studio apartment which allowed the horse to close himself off from the others. He could stumble about his own space and not have to worry if he'd fall off the edge of the stairs or bump into someone trying to make his way around. And in two more weeks, finally, they would soon find out if he'd permanently lost his sight.