“Stop fussing over me!” The little colt snorted, shaking his mane as he leaned away from his mother. Not far enough away to actually physically separate, but just enough to convey his mild displeasure, as much as his fondness for her despite current circumstances. “Muuuuuuum, stop!”
Timbira gently nipped his mane with her teeth, half-grooming and half-gently telling him off. “Well now, if you didn’t mess it up every night then I wouldn’t have to fuss over you to fix it, now would I?”
“Ughh you’re so not cool.” He snorted, resigning himself to her incessant attention. “At least tell me a good story if you’re going to be so lame.”
She snorted sharply as she continued to pick mud out from between his mane hairs. “Well, I guess I could do that. If you promise to stay still and be good. What story would you like to hear?”
He paused for a second, hesitating. It had to be something really good, something he hadn’t heard before… “What about… can you tell me about my dad?” He’d been begging her for ages, but she’d always avoided talking about him. It confused Sior, but he wasn’t really one to hold a grudge about it. Still, it did intrigue him. Was it some big secret?
Well… she’s known this moment was coming, but she’d always hoped to put it off as long as possible. It was hard to talk about it, to confront what she really felt. But she supposed she did owe it to her son… “Fine. But we’re finishing sorting your mane after, okay? Promise?”
He perked up. Finally! “Yes, I promise!”
“It was a dark and stormy night. The thunder was rolling, like the whole sky was angry, and it rumbled so hard you could feel it through your bones. Occasionally you would see a bright flash lighting up the sky – a spiky shard all the way from the clouds to the ground. Lightning. If it struck close by, you could smell it. Like the air was alive, this strange tinge on your tongue. It felt… alive. Electric. And for some reason, I decided that I was feeling particularly adventurous that day.” She paused, her eyes looking off into the distance with fond remembrance.
What? His mother out adventuring during a lightning storm? That was dangerous! And even more incredulously – ‘adventurous’ was certainly not a word in his mother’s lexicon. Lexicon. That was a fun new word he’d learned. Le-xi-con. A foal’s mind was easy to distract, after all.
“I know, I know. Q-quiet little old me, out for an adventure? During a thunderstorm?” A little quiver entered her voice. Around strangers she often felt very shy, and often her anxiety got the better of her, resulting in quite the stutter. But around her foals, or when she was by herself, it didn’t really affect her. Still, sometimes it crept in, just the odd word.
Sior sat and stared, rapt. It was hard to believe, but she hadn’t even got to the good bit yet! He wanted to know, about his past, about his father.
“I’d wandered up through the old woods to the edge. I wanted to be able to see the storm, watch the lightning as it struck the ground. It’s so… freeing? So alive. And there, at the edge of the woods, at the top of the cliff, you could see it for miles and miles. I stood there for hours. All I wanted to do was get lost in it! Fly away, like a leaf in the wind. But alas, I don’t have wings. I couldn’t fly with the storm. But, I wasn’t alone that night. For you see, the storm decided to bring me a gift. A stallion, with wings. A blue streak through the night sky. He weaved and soared and looped amongst the raging winds – the most beautiful, wild, display of freedom I’d ever seen. Then suddenly lightning struck the tree next to me, and he saw me. Lit up by the lighting, standing unafraid in the middle of a wild storm! And so he came down. He was a beautiful, charming man. We talked for hours, dancing in the storm. He flew for me, where my lack of wings couldn’t carry me. It was like a dream come true, the heart of the storm come down himself to talk with me.”
“What happened to him? Where did he go?”
“Well you see, your father was as wild and fleeting as the storm. Someone that free doesn’t belong here, stuck in the woods. The next morning he was gone, much like the wind that brought him in. On to his next adventure, on the next horizon… But he left me with the most precious gift. You. And that’s how I met your father.”
