[twwm] polaris - familiar mare

Polaris was in her Conservatory room. She did not come here often, for it was silent, reflective, empty. It felt enclosed and horrible and squeezing, and she had learned to hate it.

It was a night with a foolish full moon when she fell in again, tumbling through the rotten wooden planks of her home and onto the stone pillar that stood in the middle of a dark lake. She trembled in confusion, horror, regret. The cave like walls rose around her in waves, craggy stone wrapping around her mind and-

Polaris was fine. The room was full of sunshine, birdsong, warmth. The dark, poisoned waters that surrounded her rocky resting place was clear and filled with trout, bass, bluegill, catfish. She lifted her head to the sky, reflected back in starry purple eyes, lazy clouds scrawling across a sky like a bolt of blue silk.

..what had happened to the dank, moldy, imprisoning room? Polaris crept down from the pillar, transformed now into a grassy island, and explored. Lush vines fell from cliffs, scaling their way up the walls like rocky climbers of their own bodies. She stepped along the grass carefully, her belly low to the ground, cautious of this new and strange world.

The grass grew high, in tufts, wild and native sea-salt lives from the beach she had called home. The cliffs even were worn, like the ocean salt had grasped and clung to the rock face, chipping it away over eons. Her body straightened, now curious and open, safe.

The new room that had pulled her in with a vice grip was now friendly and calm, easy and soft and safe. It had grown too; below the reflecting pool and its island, a beach now stretched away into the distance. The sandy shore was washed by waves that swept up, clear and cool, bringing shells and kelp onto the shore.

In her own world, the one somewhere...above this one, the ocean and the lake had lost its appeal, its crystal singing voice. The deep bass of high tide crashing down, alto notes of the tide rolling out weaving itself in through the night. This new ocean was magical, healing, wild. It held so much life in it, little fish and snails, and as Polaris stepped closer to look, maybe even feel, she heard a thundering noise from further down the shoreline.

A herd of wild horses galloped down, hooves rattling the sand and causing it to buzz and vibrate at a frequency Polaris had never felt. They ran together, like a whirlwind of power and freedom. Foals stretched their skinny stick legs across the beach, shaking barely grown in manes with all the joy of a newborn opening their eyes to see the sky.

Polaris watched them, content, her heart filled with the easy kindness and warmth of seeing another smile. Oh, to love life as these horses do, flickering in and out of the waves, splashing sea water onto themselves as they pranced and played. With a hesitant step, hoping to not scare them away, Polaris walked towards the herd, spotting a certain familiar mare. Her coat was still black, though flecked with silver hairs of age, and she nickered at me, a greeting.

Like she had done in the past, Polaris pressed her forehead to the mares', their white blazes now mimicking each other as they touched. Polaris knew her in life; knew her as she knows herself now. She knew me too, her eyes kind as they stared into Polaris' now changed self. She was so glad to have the mare back - even if it was only in a room of her own unconscious making.