Gods

by TheTimeSword

Hawkeye - Sleep I

To be out of the cold and in a cave, that was often the desire for the remnants of kin. The wind buffeted bodies, turning small gusts into cutting blades that struck any limb open to the air. Freezing water would blanket eyes and mouths, shutting them closed forever. Being inside was security. A pony was safe.

Yet in the age of the ancient kin, security from the elements had given way to comfort.

To the mare, she knew following in the hoofsteps of the hoary ponies would be curious. Whatever curse that supposedly wrapped her soul in a knotted bond for setting hoof within the ruins would not care if she also investigated the remains of the past. The judgement would fall whether or not the prying mare snooped further.

She dared not attempt to climb to the second floor, nor did she have any desire to remove the hide she wore to extend her wings. Instead, the corner she had settled down in was beside a long passage where the doors had rotted off, leaving rusted metallic hinges as the only clue to their existence. The corridor held more of their brothers, though most lie flattened on the floor.

One, however, the closest, remained shut.

Digging out a bone knife from the scabbard on her hip, she tucked it into her mouth. Wild animals often slept in the ruins of the past kin. They knew just like the mare did that the unseen rarely ventured through the remains. Birds were common sights, clinging their nests to a toppling pile of stone pillars. Raccoons and possums dug deep into the ground where the loosened boards had decayed. Wolves were the worst, however.

Extending a hoof and turning the frozen, crystal knob, the mare pushed her shoulder against the dried wood. With too much force in her weight, the top hinge broke from the paneling, causing a stir of dust within the room. To her relief, the room was vacant and in relatively good shape, though she could not think of examining the past yet.

After dragging her saddlebags and the hide from the corner into the room, the mare pushed the door back into its frame. Looking around the room, she found a block of wood that stood on four legs. It mocked her as it was the same size she was, and so she put it to use. With all her strength, she pushed it to the door, creating a safeguard. Of course, as soon as she finished, one of the legs broke and the whole thing fell forward with a shattering force.

Kicking off the remaining wooden legs, the mare pushed it back up against the door only to find small panels had fallen out. Most of them were empty, but one was filled with moth-eaten cloth. Different in colors, the mare could tell they were long like the skins she had sewn together to wrap around her legs. These did not provide the same warmth as her hides.

There was more to the room, but the little light that protruded from the door's cracks provided no help in discovering what they were.

The only thing the mare recognized was the square that sat on one side of the room atop posts. It, like the mysterious garments, had been torn to shreds by bugs. It did not fall apart upon the mare's climb, and so she took it as a sign that the spirits of the past allowed her peace. Taking the roll of hide, she threw it atop the square and placed another roll near the headboard. Rest was needed.