Zielstrebig

by Lyssieth

2 - Furtherance

The wondrous icy elixir wets their mouth, their throat able to make more than a gasping whisper. They cough and groan, pulling themselves closer with newfound energy. If they could find the source of this liquid, perhaps they could escape, but first… they must be able to use their eyes. They use their hoof to cup some water, splashing their face. It's icy, but the temperature is pleasing: a reminder that they are still alive.

They try to wash their eyes, to regain their sight. They blink, flutter their eyes, do their best to rid themselves of the grime. It takes some time, but they manage to gain a vague sight of their surroundings, the darkness full of noise and doubt. Figures moving that aren't there, rocks shifting in the lack of light. They try to follow the stream, using their ears and eyes to locate where it's coming from.

A staircase, leading further. They crawl towards it, drinking more as they do, their body receptive to it despite its uncleanness. They reach the stairs, and start to climb up. First they try to stand, but collapse onto the first step, its edge grinding against their ribs, pain shooting through their body. They shift, grunt, gasp, writhe from the sudden pain.

But, now they know. If they are to fall, to fall to the side, onto the step, not the edge. They try again, but only a single step, not to stand fully. Success is short-lived, but without pain. Repeating this, they make it to the top. The sounds are different. The water is still there, but there's something else. An eerie whistle, highs, and lows. The air is cold, but the ground is lukewarm. They crawl towards the sound, having no other source of direction.

A wall, or several, block their way. All this time, the stream seems to lead towards the sound. Is it wind? They think again, continuing their movement. Wind… wind means the surface, means light. Yet there's none, still. Continuing their crawl, they find something else other than the stream and the whistle. A howl, louder than the whistle. Not of an animal, though. Of wind, same as the whistle.

It guides them upwards, closer to… the surface? Are they underground? If so, how could this be a home, like they had thought? They have little time for this, and continue their painful crawl, slowly regaining their body. They start to feel more than their torso, their head, and their hooves. As they round a corner, they hit a protrusion from their head against the wall, followed by a sharp and immediate pain shooting through their body, worse than when they fell on their ribs. A loud, shrill screech echoes through the halls, leaving them behind… no, coming from them, as a reaction.

The pain doesn't leave for a while, but it leaves them paralyzed, unable to move for who knows how long. The sound of their making has been gone or a while by the time they manage to move again.

Author's Note:

Horns are sensitive, y'all. At least, in this AU they are. I know that doesn't make sense. Shut it. :3