Horns ✖

Dreamlight

The somber reign of a vibrant majesty had fallen for the first time in months.

Rather than awaken to the shallow howls of a barren landscape, ruffled by the cold, crisp snow of a dying land, I lifted my head to the warm rays of a golden star, melting the existence of any white from the planet's surface. Twinkles of mildew and mist rose in their ashes, sprinkling life to and fro upon the rows and rows of newborn foliage only yet to come. I would lay here, ravished and confused by the change of scenery, and the strange putrid scent below; my underside sprinkled in the cool shell of a muddy undergrowth.

Was spring truly afoot? It seemed so.

And for a three-horn, I've never been happier.

Today the earthy wands of the brown burnt trees were filled with green polka-dots, and a swarm of new colorful buds. Their fragrance was aromatic, sweet and light, filling my lungs with fresh peace and a strange calmness. These hatchlings had surely shed their winter covers, and now bravely sought the sun, renewed in her brilliance.

Much of the herd was awakened by this newfound sight. Some would gawk and smell the roses that sparkled in the light. Others would seek the nearest bush to munch on, ignoring any conversations or words of approval until they had their morning snack. And while I did long to feast in celebration of this day, I couldn't find the strength to. Partially since I had much on my mind.

Father was sick. His breathing was hoarse, his orders more threatening, and his eyes cold and weary. He'd drag his tail to and fro between the herd, growling and huffing with annoyance over things he had no control over. And his flesh was wrinkled and torn, a sign that death, for this three-horn, was certain.

And that worried me.

Not just for his health, but for what was bound to come. The herd would soon fight for leadership, no questions asked. And given father's favroed victor - Thistlehorn - my brother, I felt left out, and voided. I felt as if being here was kind of worthless if I served nothing to aid in his legacy. And just as Livia had said years ago, he loved him over me.

My friend was another problem on its own. Given how much I devoted my time to my herd, my family, and my new friend Livia, time for him felt...lacking. Even when I did find time he wasn't there, or perhaps he chose not to even show. Did I upset him? Did something happen? I wasn't so sure. It hurt me to think otherwise.

And then there was Livia. She, alongside her family, left mid-way our migration trail, heading elsewhere in the mountains. When we returned, I didn't see any sign of her. And that scared me. No, it terrified me.

To think that she wasn't just missing, she could be dead. Or worse. I couldn't just live my life knowing I lost two friends in the span of five years. It hurt, more than a mere wound upon my flesh.

Alas, I had other matters to deal with.

Matters, to a three-horn, that were more surprising than simply a season renewed.

As I laid here, waiting and watching, the ground beneath me began to vibrate softly. It confused me at first - usually it would determine either a fight afoot or that either my mother or father were on approach. Or my brother per say, since his growth into adulthood overcame mine by several feet.

But it sounded timed.

The footsteps grew closer, yet I didn't dare turn. I was alone, outside the herd's safety, and swallowed hard. All until a strange voice entered my ears.

"Hey, Sillyhorns!" The female voice croaked, nudging my hind with sudden force. I growled slightly, spinning around quickly to face her. But rather than retort back to her action, I was left...starstruck.