Horns ✖

Dream Drowning

Had it not been for the mist the faint glow of the forest wouldn't have been as enchanting. Lest the night that cowered from the godly sun, the grainy earth below rolled across the forested region like the waves of an ocean, pulling away the fallen and dead, and renewing life. I found myself here again, lost and questioned, curious and yet enamored by this forest once again. The ground wasn't as muddy as the weeks prior, nor did the rocks shift when I touched it. Youth was still holding on to my hide, and I had yet to make the ground shiver from my very steps.

For now, patience has been my avenue to peace. If anything, letting go of the strains of my own herd felt more rewarding that abiding to it. Father had urged me daily to spar with my older brother, and while I had initially resisted I couldn't reject my own parent, let alone the leader of the herd. And yes, while I had won rights, and, perhaps his smile, it did earn me some new marks upon my scales, some that I wasn't proud of. A slash lingered on my shoulder, a scratch on my tilted frill, some indent near the base of my wrist, and, of course, a rash on my flank. Father told me to own up to my scars. To acknowledge them as one of your own. I figured otherwise.

Alas, I wasn't a brute.

I didn't think like one.

I didn't act like one.

I didn't want to be one, unlike my brother.

Why fight for everything? For love, for hate, for food, for water? Other than the enemies that longed to eat us, was it truly necessary? Can't we just ask? Or, was this violent life part of the endless burdens that I've been forced to follow?

I loved being a three-horn. In fact, I never questioned it. I loved to stand firm and tall, to show strength at the darkest of times, and humbleness when I felt worthy. To hoist three powerful horns upon my frill and mesmerize those who lacked such appearance. But I hated the violence, more than anything. And long after I had snuck free from the herd into the deciduous forest ahead the thought lingered on. Perhaps I should bring this up to my friend, the one hidden in the woods. He'd make more sense of it all.

But I couldn't. I had other problems to deal with.

I felt my consciousness slowly push into reality, the soft squishy noise beneath my claws now muted by the roaring rush of water. I didn't understand it at first, feeling a strange coldness slither through my veins into my pulsing chest. I felt panicked for some reason, worried even, and upon lowering my head, I realized I was...elsewhere.

There was no ground to begin with. Just a tall spiraled cliff.

I gasped, my breath faltering as an explosion of fear forced me to retreat. But long before I had the chance to escape, my rear end bumped against a pinkish creature approaching from behind, the one who smelled of salt and crusted sand. Rather than sharing a moment of terror, I saw pure excitement, and joy.

"Wooh! That was...quite the rush," She laughed, shaking the water pellets off her scales, then tilted her head toward me, "You ready?"

I choked on my own breath, "M-Me?"

"Mhmm."

"Yeah, I..." I turned my paw inward, gazing down at the tumbling water and the rippling pool below with a sickening feeling in my stomach, "I-I don't know."

"It's not that bad," She reassured me, "Three seconds. That's all."

"Three?"

"Trust me! Besides, it's really fun. The hard part is just...well...doing it!"

"It's high!"

"That's just your eyes talking," She smirked, "Oh, c'mon, live a little! What's the worst that can happen?"