User blog:RRabbit42/Sunset, part 4

Sunset part 4

There are many nights I lie awake and think about the day our lives changed.

The students did visit her. She had company nearly every day. Sometimes three or four would go to see her together and take a picnic lunch so that they could spend the day with her.

It was usually about two months after a new member arrived that they were taken to meet her. It was my privilege to escort them. Carrots were the traditional introductory offering. She had selected a valley you could not find unless you knew where it was. Though the walk was long, no one regretted it once they had met her.

Others, the really special ones, found her on their own. They were drawn there instinctively.

She met every one, and was there to bid them farewell when they left.

Eventually she came to visit us at the house, once I had mastered the shield she taught me. The first time had been during a training session on the track.

She stood there and just watched us. “Inspecting the troops,” someone quipped. “You got that right,” she said, only to me, and snorted for emphasis. It became customary for someone to shout “Captain on deck!” whenever she appeared. We never let her down.

The subject of finding a companion for her came up frequently. Each time, I said, “I’ll take care of it.” It wasn’t until the twelfth time that I the answer hit me. I would wonder for a long time why that number usually turned out to be the key.

“I am an idiot.” I threw open the door, nearly breaking the hinges. Everyone gathered at the doorway or windows to watch. It wasn’t a surprise to them when they saw me shift. “Finally!” one of them said.

As a stallion, it didn’t take me long to reach her. As I ran, I replayed the answer. “There didn’t seem to be another… option”, she had said. Another... option. Another... companion.

She was ecstatic to see me. I heard her very clearly. “You figured it out! Took you long enough, though.”

“Apparently everyone else figured it out a long time ago, but they wouldn’t tell me.”

“Everyone must find their own path.”

“I have a talent for missing the obvious.”

She looked at me askance. “Oh, need to be told the obvious, do you?” So deceptively sweet.

Danger, Will Robinson. Danger!

“Well, try this one on for size, bright boy. I never said my mind was the only human thing I took with me. I kept my libido and now it’s plus-sized and you’ve kept me waiting far too long. Come here, my love.” Her mental voice was just as tender and eager as her physical voice had ever been.

On other visits, we raced around the compound, feeling the wind on our skin and in our manes and tails. Or we simply hung out together, talking about the students, about everything and nothing, munching on the luscious grass. There was something soothing about it that made up for what I initially termed “salad with no ambition”. She got a good laugh out of that one. She teased me mercilessly about it for a very long time.

It was during one of our times together that I found out what had happened to the suit. She ex­plained that once its work was done, it had become inert. She shed it like a snakeskin. It had dissolved into nothingness afterwards. Only a small garden of roses marked where it had been discarded. “The last gift”, she called it.

She told me she came there every day, to contemplate their dual nature. The beauty of the flowers, supported by the pain of the thorns, much as she had experienced during her lessons. She also told me that the roses never wilted and changed to a new variety every week, the morning of my visits.

“I allow myself one per day.” She nibbled at the petals, then neatly separated the flower from the stem. “They regrow each week. Thank you, dear flower.” Though she offered, I never partook. These were for her alone.

My mental abilities grew. I was able to talk with her from the house. She was my friend even when I was alone.

We speak of her often. The students are continually in awe of the elegance and grace radiating from her, of the depth of compassion and understanding. They themselves do not understand it, but I do. There is also one other aspect they never fail to remark on, but it never goes any further. Well, almost never. In my most private thoughts, I suspect she suppresses the curiousity they feel. Any that would follow in her hoofprints would find their own way.

* * *

♦ preface ♦ part 1 ♦ part 2 ♦ part 3 ♦ part 4 ♦ part 5 ♦ epilogue ♦