A Moment of Rememberance

He loved this time of day, when the sky became the canvas of an impressionist painter, hues of colour melting and merging into one another as if by the whim of a giant brush. The sun was just starting to rise on another beautiful day, the softest of breezes whispered through his mane. The grass was slightly dry, but still retained some of the sun-kissed sweetness gained during the now fading summer months. Pausing from his grazing, he simply revelled in the silence. In the brief moments before the songbirds began their dawn chorus, true peace reigned. He needed that peace. It filled his soul and dulled the ache from his slowly healing heart.

It might have been more than a year since his world had been torn apart, his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, but he knew the pain would never fully fade. The sight of his slaughtered mate and child still haunted his dreams, causing him to wake, drenched in sweat with a cry of fear on his lips, but now the dreams were less frequent than they had been. For months after their deaths he had wandered, trapped in his head, unable to sleep through pain and fear of what would greet him in the dream realm. An already withdrawn stallion, he had become a shell, existing rather than living and eating only enough to sustain his body. The glossy shine of his coat had faded and his eyes had taken on a lost, glazed look. The world no longer delighted him; he took no pleasure in the sights that he previously had; the twinkling of the stars, the first buds of spring.

But, as they always say, time is the greatest healer, and he had slowly started to live again. While his heart still felt hollow, it was piecing itself back together, scarred but sound. Consciousness of the outside world had begun to filter back into his head, the sweet smell of a wildflower, a newborn foal taking its first steps. His eyes were still full of the pain of his loss, but they had started to shine again. It would be a while before he could love again, but he was mending.

Every morning, however, he would come to this hillock at the break of dawn, his favourite time of day, and remember. For a few minutes, as the sun rose and spread light and life over the land, he would re-immerse himself in the past; see again those bright faces that had so filled him with such love and affection he had thought his heart would burst. He would remember the first time he’d met her, the mare who would become his mate and his life. Again he witnessed her stomach swelling with new life, felt again the slight kick against his nose when he pressed it to her belly. Still alive in his head were his daughter’s first steps, him teaching her the ways of the world, curling up with the two pieces of his heart as dusk drew in, and knowing a new day would come. It hurt, to remember and to live when he had so wanted to join them in death, but he knew he must continue to live and relive, so they had not died in vain.

If you read all of that you deserve a cookie ()... I got a bit carried away while I was typing

Its my darling Borak... I really don't draw him enough . This is taking place in the period of his life when he had to rebuild his world after the slaughter of his mate Echo and his daughter, but prior to him meeting Kiera.

I really like how Borak came out, certain bits of the background. I really don't know how I feel about the sky, the bits I really liked are mostly obscured by the trees and moutains .

Borak and art (c) Me