Contains mild foul language and mentioning of alcohol. I don't expect anybody to be particularly disturbed by this, but I thought I'd post a warning anyways.

Lots of tears, tissues (so many tissues..), and hours were put into this so I sincerely hope at least one or two of you will enjoy it x);
Interactions will be allowed if enough people are interested!

/anxious fidget;;
----




















Up on the hill, there was a field of wheat. The field lay before an intimidating line of immobile trees: assorted maple and redwood and pine. Staring up at the bulk of the trees was the resolute figure of one woman. The wheat that she so adored danced around her bare ankles as she gazed into the forested depths ahead of her. On days when she felt overwhelmed by her life, she would often come and spend some time in the field, to collect bugs and listen to the breeze, but today it brought no such comfort.





Hesitating, she looked behind herself to the side a white colonial-style house encrusted with meaningless architectural fripperies. Every year these walls closed in on her inch by inch until she could no longer call it, nor the ocean-side town she lived in, her home.

The town lay in a loose formation well below her in the fog that came soldiering in every sunset now that the weather had become cooler. She knew that there was no vantage point available in the town that would betray her current position. Everything had been planned carefully; she knew what would happen to her if things had not gone how she’d wanted them to and inwardly thanked whatever gods there were for such good fortune. The woman needed to get away from her human life until things here blew over, and then she might return.












If that was possible.




















She’d been a dealer in illegal spirits. Whisky. Alcohol. Whatever people were thirsty for, they came to her to get it. It had been easy enough to buy off a couple of the good ol’ sailor boys that frequented the docks on their visits to deliver goods to the town. They were her buyers and she was the supplier: somebody who had to get her clients’ vote of confidence but was able to muscle in any time a deal went South and things got ugly.


And it did start to get ugly.











Not but two months ago, she’d caught one of “her boys” dumping some poor dead sod into the water. Shot the poor guy three times in the head and tossed him into the ocean, just like that. A lifetime ago she would have done the same in his position, but here.. technology was more sophisticated. It would be easy to track her boys down, and then it would all come to her and she'd spend who knows how long in the slammer. Or worse.





























This worrisome thought produced a delicate thread of consciousness that led its way back to her house, up the stairs, and to her bedroom where her collection of mounted insects lay safely in a locked drawer. Although her attention was fixed back onto to the forest, she groaned quietly to herself and fretted momentarily about the safety of her belongings. It was as if she’d forgotten that her great aunt would be tending her house and explaining to the neighbors that she was on a vacation.

The woman imagined her aunt with the severe, pale face and stern, corseted bosom weaving her way through town. “My niece’s constitution is too refined for the going-ons in this town,” she would say in her deep voice. “She’s left for the consideration of her health. I haven’t the foggiest idea when she’ll be back..”



Such an unrealistically reliable version of her aunt comforted the woman considerably and she took a step towards-- something. This something she could only see in hints and snatches from the corner of her eye, but it looked vaguely like a scrap of cloth hanging in the air and somehow attached to the surrounding environment. She was about to grab it, but then of course she was interrupted by the throaty call of a raven that settled onto the yielding bough of a nearby fir. Its call and demeanor was familiar to her.










“Edith,” The woman chastised warmly. “I know I told you there are other smart ravens where I’m going, but you can’t come.” There was another harsh cry and the raven swooped at the woman like a tethered circus performer delighting their audience. Instinctively she ducked and straightened up. “I told you no!” She insisted crossly, but Edith swooped closer with another pass.


“No!” It repeated in its almost-human voice. This garnered a sharp look from the woman, but she quickly relented for the sake of not wasting any more time.

“Alright,” she sighed and offered her forearm, to which the raven clung with a flourish of feathers and wind. It shimmied up to her shoulder. “You have to behave, though. I don’t want you embarrassing me in front of everybody. Understood?”


Edith croaked “no!” and nipped at her friend’s blonde hair affectionately. The woman chuckled a little before returning her attention to the forest. She sighed heavily. Her gaze searched for what she’d seen out of the corner of her eyes and then—there it was! The square waved gently in the breeze, as if everything around her was made out of fabric that gave way to a humming yellow light.


























Edith recognized the command and huddled against the woman’s head. Her feet clenched into the white fabric of the woman’s dress and dirtied it, but neither of the pair gave much thought to it.



Her green eyes shone with tears as she looked back at the house one last time.

In the front yard was where her fiancé had met his guide-horse, a miniature strawberry roan appropriately named Strawberry. There was a photo of the two of them together: the tall, pale man that she loved more than anything else in the world sitting in the grass while Strawberry knocked his sunglasses askew with her curious little nose. Where she was going wasn’t going to be a very good place for a pony like Strawberry to live, but she was going to miss her all the same. Why, she'd even miss the smell of her manure.





The woman had to psych herself up simply to remove her shoes and—slowly—she grasped the tear and pulled with all her strength.























Her feet made heavy pounding noises while her body turned this way and that to avoid obstacles she felt rather than saw ahead in the blazing cone of light that surged around her. It was like she was being pulled along by a steady hand that grasped her very core. The feeling was fantastic and filled her with a tingling sensation, but judging by the harried sounds Edith made against her head, the sentiment wasn’t mutual. Faster and faster they went until her feet were all but an unfeeling blur beneath her line of vision while the wind ran its liquid-soft fingers around her body at a frantic pace. Her cheeks were flushed red with her efforts.




Without her noticing, her footfalls became softer and her weight pitched forward smoothly until she had to use her hands and arms to keep from landing on her face. She knew no harm would come to her if she fell. The cotton dress dissolved underneath Edith’s claws. The frightened raven finally could take no more and instead flew alongside her shifting companion, afraid of what was happening but unwilling to leave her side.









A feral cry loosened itself from her throat as her lungs expanded to help fuel her progress. The woman glimpsed a rock formation up ahead, followed by a crumbling house of worship, and then something that made her heart leap into her throat. She pirouetted on her nimble hooves and all at once surged towards the vision with her eyes clenched shut.









































A bright sun teased her eyes as she opened them and she graciously took in the scene that exploded into place around her: it was a forest unlike any other in the world, enlivened with sunshine and freckled everywhere with poppies, hyacinths, and her favorite, dandelions.










She picked her way forward (“I forgot how weird it is to walk on four hooves again!”) so that she stood at the lip of a basin filled with clear water. The willows around the lip rasped their greetings. Clean air welcomed her nose and mouth as she took in great gulps of it, feeling it energize her. The usually skittish koi swam in loose circles below her.












“I’m back!” She was starry-eyed, breathless. Then her face softened. Tears plopped onto the dirt beneath her hooves as she sank to the ground. The raven wheeled above silently.






























----