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Description
It's my "off" season for working with problem horses. In late November, we're just bouncing back from the first "real" cold snap and winter's just around the corner - so most of my clients have picked up their horses and taken them home to put out to pasture. After I'm done feeding and turning out the few boarders that I have left, I grab a book from the stash in my tack room and head on out to see Spawn.

He's not anywhere near the gate or the old apple tree (and in fact is probably at the other end of the field playing in the woods again) but that's where I settle in for a few free hours of book time gifted to me by the lull in business.

Engrossed in the story, but not too far into my book, I am forcibly ejected by a complete loss of light to read by. When I glance up, it is the toss of his head and the familiar glint in his eye that prompts me to scramble out of the way in time for Spawn to unconcernedly curl himself up where I had been sitting. Hmph! Well if that's how he wants to play it…

Fine. I settle against him, sinking back into his fur with a sigh before starting the story again. There is comfort in the warmth of his body, the rhythmic rise and fall of his ribcage against my spine until it is natural to synchronize our breaths. Even the occasional sting of his tail against my skin is a soothing presence for my turbulent mind. For I was suddenly a teenage girl horrifically assaulted and murdered, watching my family mourn my absence and probable death (they hadn't found my body) breaking the ties that I knew and reforming the pieces to become a new collective, whole without me.

This character… sighing, I let my eyes unfocus; staring at the page without seeing. What must she be feeling? Why was she lost? What did the killer do with her body? Couldn't they find me and my killer? Why is my little sister going to be the first of us to date, to kiss a boy, to wear too much makeup and stay out past curfew? Why am I jealous instead of happy for my family when their scars start to heal? Whywhywhywhywhywhyw-

And then there's the lightest touch at the edge of my consciousness, a mere brush of something notme that passes quickly.

-Melancholy. Wariness. Ready to turn the page?-

No, I'm connecting to the character. I'm in limbo, and there are parts of it I can't access because they don't resonate with me, but the parts that do are nice. And I'm able t-

-Amusement/Annoyance. Ready to turn the page?-

to watch my family, and live vicariously through them which is fun but it's also hard and I don't belong anywhere and there's no forward, I'm stuck. I want to live, my life was stolen, I want it BACK pleaseyes-

-//Can we move on to the next page? Please.//-

His large sapphire eye is nearly covered by his forelock, but I know Spawn can see that he caught my attention. As well as the smile I try to hide, but can feel tugging on the corner of my mouth anyway.

-//Finally! I was waiting for you.//-

Shock and fear crash over me like a wave, (not my emotions, I remind myself firmly, not mine!) and I have to force my tensed body to relax into the coiled spring behind me.

Alright, gentle here. Easy does it… A deep breath and then I touch that bright place between us.
-Acceptance. Affection. Trust?-

Subconsciously, I hold my breath; hoping that I didn't push him too hard or throw my emotions around like a lead weight, but how am I supposed to magically know how to work this telepathy thing? And ok, yes I'm worried that Spawn wasn't really ready for me to know about this part of him, eventhough he's theone who spoketomefirstan-

And that sense of notme becomes more powerful in response to my overture in that place where we meet and overlap just the tiniest bit, testing for truth and sincerity. Although he is gentle and light with the brush of his mind against mine, the sheer strength of it shocks the breath from my lungs.

Then the sensation of touch is stronger, and there is only a thin barrier between us. So I have one hand against the window, won't you take it? But suddenly there is no barrier between us, and I never had one against you anyway --

A tentative nudge from him and I surrender immediately, -and we are one, heat and light and kinetic energy for daysyearshours- melting like hot wax into Spawn's side. He makes a very comfortable bed/pillow/blanket.

Too bad I can't just roll over and curl him around me like a fuzzy cocoon, a sleeping bag of warm white fur and dark blue eyes closed in slumber calling to-

Shift.

The world shifted?

But I'm awake an-

Shift.

Eyes flutter ovencloseopenclosecloseopenflutter-

Thanks for the coat, mister.

I snuggle deep into the folds as I lose myself to sleep.

What beautiful blue eyes he had, so dark and striking against his platinum blonde hair.

Sigh… Such a beautiful dream.

Description
It's my "off" season for working with problem horses. In late November, we're just bouncing back from the first "real" cold snap and winter's just around the corner - so most of my clients have picked up their horses and taken them home to put out to pasture. After I'm done feeding and turning out the few boarders that I have left, I grab a book from the stash in my tack room and head on out to see Spawn.

He's not anywhere near the gate or the old apple tree (and in fact is probably at the other end of the field playing in the woods again) but that's where I settle in for a few free hours of book time gifted to me by the lull in business.

Engrossed in the story, but not too far into my book, I am forcibly ejected by a complete loss of light to read by. When I glance up, it is the toss of his head and the familiar glint in his eye that prompts me to scramble out of the way in time for Spawn to unconcernedly curl himself up where I had been sitting. Hmph! Well if that's how he wants to play it…

Fine. I settle against him, sinking back into his fur with a sigh before starting the story again. There is comfort in the warmth of his body, the rhythmic rise and fall of his ribcage against my spine until it is natural to synchronize our breaths. Even the occasional sting of his tail against my skin is a soothing presence for my turbulent mind. For I was suddenly a teenage girl horrifically assaulted and murdered, watching my family mourn my absence and probable death (they hadn't found my body) breaking the ties that I knew and reforming the pieces to become a new collective, whole without me.

This character… sighing, I let my eyes unfocus; staring at the page without seeing. What must she be feeling? Why was she lost? What did the killer do with her body? Couldn't they find me and my killer? Why is my little sister going to be the first of us to date, to kiss a boy, to wear too much makeup and stay out past curfew? Why am I jealous instead of happy for my family when their scars start to heal? Whywhywhywhywhywhyw-

And then there's the lightest touch at the edge of my consciousness, a mere brush of something notme that passes quickly.

-Melancholy. Wariness. Ready to turn the page?-

No, I'm connecting to the character. I'm in limbo, and there are parts of it I can't access because they don't resonate with me, but the parts that do are nice. And I'm able t-

-Amusement/Annoyance. Ready to turn the page?-

to watch my family, and live vicariously through them which is fun but it's also hard and I don't belong anywhere and there's no forward, I'm stuck. I want to live, my life was stolen, I want it BACK pleaseyes-

-//Can we move on to the next page? Please.//-

His large sapphire eye is nearly covered by his forelock, but I know Spawn can see that he caught my attention. As well as the smile I try to hide, but can feel tugging on the corner of my mouth anyway.

-//Finally! I was waiting for you.//-

Shock and fear crash over me like a wave, (not my emotions, I remind myself firmly, not mine!) and I have to force my tensed body to relax into the coiled spring behind me.

Alright, gentle here. Easy does it… A deep breath and then I touch that bright place between us.
-Acceptance. Affection. Trust?-

Subconsciously, I hold my breath; hoping that I didn't push him too hard or throw my emotions around like a lead weight, but how am I supposed to magically know how to work this telepathy thing? And ok, yes I'm worried that Spawn wasn't really ready for me to know about this part of him, eventhough he's theone who spoketomefirstan-

And that sense of notme becomes more powerful in response to my overture in that place where we meet and overlap just the tiniest bit, testing for truth and sincerity. Although he is gentle and light with the brush of his mind against mine, the sheer strength of it shocks the breath from my lungs.

Then the sensation of touch is stronger, and there is only a thin barrier between us. So I have one hand against the window, won't you take it? But suddenly there is no barrier between us, and I never had one against you anyway --

A tentative nudge from him and I surrender immediately, -and we are one, heat and light and kinetic energy for daysyearshours- melting like hot wax into Spawn's side. He makes a very comfortable bed/pillow/blanket.

Too bad I can't just roll over and curl him around me like a fuzzy cocoon, a sleeping bag of warm white fur and dark blue eyes closed in slumber calling to-

Shift.

The world shifted?

But I'm awake an-

Shift.

Eyes flutter ovencloseopenclosecloseopenflutter-

Thanks for the coat, mister.

I snuggle deep into the folds as I lose myself to sleep.

What beautiful blue eyes he had, so dark and striking against his platinum blonde hair.

Sigh… Such a beautiful dream.