Horns ✖

A Distant Call

I was expecting a dream.

A vision. A calling.

Something to rouse me. Something to remember.

And something to inevitably forget.

Startle me as you've done in the past, I'd beseech in this empty slumber, Use me like bait. Torture me even. I want to feel, not from the outside, but from within. I want to remember...please...

I was foolish to think it would make any difference.

To some extent, these things were exactly nightmares, but they lacked the 'darkness' that made them unique. There were no monsters, no shadows, no death, no falling or storms, none of that. I couldn't quite touch on what these...visual cycles were. Alas, they felt so real, but like mirages they'd dispersed into the blackness as fast as they had arrived. Unless, it is I who cannot seem to sense their purpose; before I could even ponder a question they'd be stripped from my very grasp.

Was this the curse of living? To forget everything? To be forced to thrive in a false reality of my own imagination? One that I cannot seem to connect towards, and yet, it screamed out for my soul so desperately? I hadn't found the answers, not even a clue.

And I don't think I ever will.

The night was long, dry, and cold during my brief rest, my steady breath a soft rumble through every inhale and exhale. My limbs had fallen asleep alongside me, holding their own as each sought a much more comforting position. The pain itself was numbing, reduced to a simple tickle against my flank, and with it the aches and creaks began to subside. I had to admit, the club-tail, Wrecker, was of great help. If anything I'm grateful for it, his attitude and generosity had indeed saved me. But in all this glory and surreal kindness, despite it being only two days, I could sense something different: his emotions were rising. I could smell it, some sort of fear, some kind of...pressure. Every moment he cared for me, yes, but why not everyone else? It had seemed that any flesh wound was a magnet for my friend. Surely I understood his level of care, but he looked so enraptured by my wounds. So...scared of them. Enough that he would mend every single one just to feel something, or hide it.

Just as I would give anything to seek my memories.

It was a vague thought that would transverse throughout the dreamless night, making me wonder, and question it all. Even still, my mind battled against the cold blackness outside, and being cold-blooded, the sudden breeze wasn't much help, only prolonging the hope for a sunny morning.

If that would ever come in time.

Long did I sleep, and long did I await the glimmer of light to creep over my eyelids and rouse me. And as the feelings of my body began to surge to life once more, I began to notice something different. I awoke to the taste of something sweet...chamomile as it was, the flavors tingling on the tip of my tongue. And, upon opening my eyes, was met by two huge golden eyes staring down at me from above.

"Hi!"

"...Hi?" I grunted quietly, my visage being swallowed up by his enlarged pupils. I was perplexed by his sudden appearance, already finding the questions to ask stirring in the back of my mind. Why was he this close? Why does he smell like brittlewood and herbs? How long has he been standing over me like this?!

"How are you feeling?"

"-Oh," I blinked, my eyes darting around for a second before replying, "Mmm...better."

"And sleep?"

"Quiet," I smirked, still a bit confused by his sudden arrival this morning, "Though my side, it still-"