- Fri Jan 15, 2021 3:49 pm
#7465
Good Brother,
How do I begin a letter like this? I do not remember your face, your name, or if you really ever existed at all. But I saw you one day, remembered you, and I have not stopped thinking about you since. The only way I can think to show my grasping mind any satisfaction is to reach out as if you really are. And so.
I am sorry. That seems most important to say. I do not know why you chose as you did that day to ride after our prey; to trample so close to a Nail of the Plains. I still feel the sharp pains in my innards when I conjure the image: horse heeding your direction with enthusiasm, your silk scarf flapping in the wind — joyously almost — as if its sacred duty to hide you from Them were a child's game. Why did you act so recklessly? I do not think we were starving or desperate. Were we foolish? Young? Without fear of what lies below, resting in malice?
I will have to write a second letter to our companion, as I commanded that we pursue you. I do not remember yet what happened, but I fear the worst for her. The pursuit of you might explain my current situation. Maybe you and she share my fate.
Someday I will know what happened to you and to her, this I swear. For now, know what has be come of me.
Whatever I was before, now I am Risen. Our town and our recurring lives are centered on a northern coast, not far from the plains you and I hunted. Others climb out of a life-sustaining well every day, and now I've sworn to protect them. A Reeve, they will call me.
My mind and my heart are mostly empty. Blank. I fill them with what I can. Community, friendship, your memory. With these small riches I choose my path. Protect the others, scour the wild, and understand the nature of what is happening now. One of our kin, maybe, is Nergui. He has memories like mine. Memories of war, tense emotions, failure. He thinks our people (if we have people) may still be out there in the plains. And so I will help him search, to make Risenholm safe enough for such frivolous reaches into the past, and to remember you better, brother. I do not think they understand the gravity of what lies just beyond our boarders. The danger. The horror. I do not either, but I know I once did. And we must warn them.
Yours once and still,
Erhi
How do I begin a letter like this? I do not remember your face, your name, or if you really ever existed at all. But I saw you one day, remembered you, and I have not stopped thinking about you since. The only way I can think to show my grasping mind any satisfaction is to reach out as if you really are. And so.
I am sorry. That seems most important to say. I do not know why you chose as you did that day to ride after our prey; to trample so close to a Nail of the Plains. I still feel the sharp pains in my innards when I conjure the image: horse heeding your direction with enthusiasm, your silk scarf flapping in the wind — joyously almost — as if its sacred duty to hide you from Them were a child's game. Why did you act so recklessly? I do not think we were starving or desperate. Were we foolish? Young? Without fear of what lies below, resting in malice?
I will have to write a second letter to our companion, as I commanded that we pursue you. I do not remember yet what happened, but I fear the worst for her. The pursuit of you might explain my current situation. Maybe you and she share my fate.
Someday I will know what happened to you and to her, this I swear. For now, know what has be come of me.
Whatever I was before, now I am Risen. Our town and our recurring lives are centered on a northern coast, not far from the plains you and I hunted. Others climb out of a life-sustaining well every day, and now I've sworn to protect them. A Reeve, they will call me.
My mind and my heart are mostly empty. Blank. I fill them with what I can. Community, friendship, your memory. With these small riches I choose my path. Protect the others, scour the wild, and understand the nature of what is happening now. One of our kin, maybe, is Nergui. He has memories like mine. Memories of war, tense emotions, failure. He thinks our people (if we have people) may still be out there in the plains. And so I will help him search, to make Risenholm safe enough for such frivolous reaches into the past, and to remember you better, brother. I do not think they understand the gravity of what lies just beyond our boarders. The danger. The horror. I do not either, but I know I once did. And we must warn them.
Yours once and still,
Erhi