Horns ✖

The Risk

"There has to be something-"

"There isn't!" I whimpered back, "I-I'm trying but there's nothing there."

"Three-horn I..." He trailed off looking in another direction, "I knew you'd need help to get you back on your feet, but never like this. This...this is worse. It's outside of my control."

I pressed my claw against the lump upon my horn, growling as a sharp wave of pain flourished from the hotspot where my scales bulged and cracked. The warm blood oozed clean here, the scar proof that my bone had been ruptured badly, and before I could further examine the damage the club-tail knocked the limb away with a snort of disapproval.

"Enough!" He snarled, flaring his nostrils, "You're going to make it worse. I spent an hour coating it, and you touching it will only infect it."

"I doubt that is possible."

"It has happened before," His voice rasped coldly.

"Nevermind that...how much more can you mend my skull?" I questioned, a bit buttered by his lashing display, "Or can you do anything other than what you've already done?"

"I have done everything possible dear three-horn, and even if I do more it won't make a difference. Herbs and roots can heal wounds and kill sicknesses, but nothing can't fix what lies in here-" He pointed to his own head, his moment now dying away with a breath of defeat.

"Please," I begged, watching him move away to a pile of yellow nearby, and began twisting my tail inward anxiously, "There has to be something..."

"I have spoken my case, friend. I cannot help you further, other than cure what damage lies on the outside. I'm sorry."

I sighed, looking toward the crackled soil in sorrow as the silence lifted. He spoke of the truth, something that I couldn't accept. I had lost it all, my name, my legacy, everything that made me who I was. And as much as I wanted to deny that I had lost my connection to the past, it was real. All of it was. The only thing I had to look back on was surviving the raptors, and the storm that had concealed it.

"But..." the club-tail lowered the extra yarrow to the ground before me, seeing the lifeless flower shiver under the warm breath of the gentle giant, "If you know where to look, this world is full of memory."

"Where would I go?" I whimpered back, shaking my head, "I said I don't recall anything past waking up. If I just wander off aimlessly, without a thought or care in the world I could die. Nature will ensure it."

"If that's what you believe, then she shall," The club-tail responded, gazing into my eyes before nudging the flowers closer to my chest, "Now, eat."

"The Yarrow? Again?"

"I'm not asking..."

The bitter gut-punch was sickening on my tongue, not like the salt-like crunchy acacia leaves or the sweet texture of hibiscus. I was helpless to avoid this horrible taste, and swallowed hard, revealing at the aftertaste against my taste buds.

"What do you know then, three-horn?"

I grimaced as I sought back, which, in truth, was only a short-lived life, but still filled with an acute sense of knowledge that I could retrace.

"I know that I'm a three-horn," I rumbled, gazing at the horn upon my snout, "I know that I awoke in the plains with nothing but my will and my damaged hide to carry me. I know that something, or someone had killed me before I awoke. And that the raptors who attacked me are quite possibly the least of my worries."

"Carnivores, in my hindsight, are indeed the lowest priority," Replied the club-tail, sitting down upon his haunches to gaze at me, "But in your regards I would think otherwise. Had you not awakened that evening, you probably wouldn't have lived the night. Alas, everything happens for a reason, so your survival must mean something."