Tincture Abbey Stables by Weavingmagic and Elandria

..| Stories| Gaelan | Surrender

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DISCLAIMER

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This work of fiction is purely for shits and giggles, however please respect all copyrights and do not redistribute/copy/edit/claim as your own under any circumstances

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First Published - 19th Dec 2014
Work In Progress
Lucy Kilhullen - WeavingMagic
Horses Included: Galen #90

Chapter 1

The blackness was streaked with pinhead lights as the wind rushed around him and he spun around and over on himself. Careening out of his control he was losing memory of what was up, down, left, or right. Faster and faster he fell through the emptiness as the wind screamed past his ears and he forced his eyes closed not because he was afraid of what he saw; he saw nothing but blackness and pinhead lights streaking past, but because the wind hitting his eyes made them sting, dry, and painful. Hair swirled around and flipped about whipping him in the neck, the side, and his face leaving stinging trails behind. He saw nothing, and could focus on nothing. How he wished he could stop the screaming in his ears. It mimicked the screaming he heard as he fell from his comfy stall watching as his precious Demeter grasp for him but he was just past her reach. He watched as she faded into the ultimate blackness and his heart retreated similarly into his stomach.

The wind whistled and whipped and beat him until he couldn’t hold out any longer and he just wished for death to take him. Then the wind whistled and whipped and beat him some more. The screaming turned into a high pitched whistle as his body gyrated and spun out of control and he just kept his eyes closed and waited for it to end. He was certain he had reached terminal velocity. He was certain all that was left was surrender.

Almost as suddenly as it started, the wind stopped. There was not a single noise to be heard. His head still rang like a bell, but the silence was absolutely deafening. There was no feeling except the weight of his large body pressing against the ground. He refused to open his eyes. It had to be a night mare. If he just stayed where he was, perfectly still, maybe it would all be normal when he opened his eyes in the morning. Maybe it was all a really bad dream. He rolled over onto his chest, rested his chin to the cool ground, kept his eyes closed and eventually in the blackness, in the stillness, and in the silence he tried to fall asleep.

The air turned cool, and his skin twitched and shivered instinctively, but his breathing was slow and methodical. His eyes stayed closed, and he breathed in and out - meditating.

In and out he breathed. In and out. No scents invaded his nose. In and out. No sounds invaded his ears. In and out. Just a light coolness on his skin as the world slept silently alongside him. In and out as he tried hard to break the cycle of the dream. In and out. In and out. No sleep would grace him. His mind was still reeling. In and out. Nothing kept him awake, but he could not find peace. In and out. In and out. “Forget it!” he grumped. “If I can’t find sleep, then I will find where I am.” Slowly his massive weight hoisted itself up on his legs. He shook his body rattling the fur, mane, and tail all the way down from his nose to his hooves. Shaky he stood for a moment re-orienting to what was up, down, left and right.

The dewdrops clung with a stranglehold to every bit of grass straining to keep from falling and being absorbed by the earth as the blades bent under the weight trying to drop their burden. A slow, rhythmic, and metronomic crunch could be heard as footsteps crossed over the beaten path. The dew was swept up into the fur as it flung forward with each plodding step, slapping over and over across the hooves as his feet swung forward in perfect time. The cool air pressed a heavy fog down over the grounds so it was very difficult to see anything. Nothing else moved in the stillness.

The light had only begun to creep over the horizon and streak its first vermillion touches to the bottoms of the clouds in a still midnight blue sky that was veiled by a heavy grey wetness all around. Gaelen paused a moment. He strained his ear to listen. Not a bird, not a cricket, nothing was to be heard. The stillness and silence was painful. “Where am I?” Gaelen thought to himself. “How do I get home?”

The questions seared into his mind as he lifted his large head and sniffed a few times into the moist cool air. “Nothing smells right.” He swung his head from his long muscular neck to the side and tried to see anything he could to point him in the right direction. “Nothing looks right.” The thoughts began to spin wildly out of control. “What if I never make it back home again?” His massive lungs drew in a large breath and then he snorted almost sneezing the air out with a pain in his left side. He twist around slightly and looked at his side, nipped at it, then turned his head back to the front again. Gaelen lifted his left back leg and it twanged slightly as he lumbered forward driving with his huge hind quarters and his rippling shoulders. Every few steps he sniffed the ground, sniffed the air, and walked forward some more. “Something has to point me back home.” He ignored the pain in his leg and side as he kept urging himself forward. “I don’t know where I am, but I know I am not home yet.”

The crunching of Gaelen’s footsteps changed in tenor as he came to a paved pathway. The clatter rang loud in his ears as it startled him. He tossed his head up and shook again trying to brush off the dew that had accumulated as he wandered through the dense cloud hanging low around the ground. The fog had obscured all idea there was any form of civilization around. A couple of trepidatious footsteps later all four feet were standing square on a pathway. The sun had begun to burn off a little bit of the fog in the upper layers and with his great size Gaelen could make out a tower. He turned with the ground groaning beneath him, grit chewing against the stones, and began walking towards the tower.

Gaelen could hear a soft nicker in the direction of the tower and was encouraged that there might be others like him nearby. Maybe the fog was all that was disorienting him and he was closer to home than he thought. He continued forward.