Of Gears and Humanity

| 10.01

{ELENA}

As Damien's body fell forward, I caught him in my arms. I tried to balance his weight, but it only took seconds for me to fall over. With his head against my chest, I listened to his deep, pained breathing; I felt his fluttering heartbeat.

And my mind raced.

His father was an Attribution; the machines that tried to destroy the human race a hundred years ago. To know that he was raised by them, taught by them, and lived confused me. I was always told how machines despised our existence, how they plotted to kill each and every one of us. But their plans were foiled by the first king of our age—Damien LaRoy of Argentina.

Recalling the name of our great king, I turned my wide eyes towards the person who saved me just now; as if history repeated itself.

Our first king had been the one to have the machines listen, to have them recoil and backtrack of their ideas of destruction. Our first king had been their guiding light, as well as ours.

"Our first king was a great man." I stroked the side of his face. "Is that why you're named after him?"

As I looked up towards the sky, wondering if meeting Damien was more of fate than chance, the sound of trotting horse-steps. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw my beloved Carmine slowly waltz through the dying trees. I knew I should have been ecstatic that he came for me; in his own horse way, I knew he had been adamant on not following me back to the Gate. I also knew I should have been angry because, if he had come this way with me, I probably wouldn't have been in as much danger. Carmine was a royal horse; he slept within the same stables as the other war horses. Somewhere in their slumber, neighing dreams, he should have had a dormant instinct on how to save me.

With that thought in mind, I turned my head to look at him as he stood at my side. His long face pressed against my shoulder. The warmth of his breath slid down my arm. I closed my eyes as I listened to the calming sounds of my horse. "You did come for me, old friend." I glanced at my horse. "I'm happy you're here."

Carmine pushed against me, using his face to nudge me. I knew he wanted me to stand up and climb on him. He would act this way when I'd fallen off of him; he'd coax me to get up again, to try once more. But it was more than just me. Looking down at my chest, at Damien, I was reminded of just that.

I pushed back on one of my hands as I tried to keep Damien's body from falling. "I need your help," I said to my horse.

Of course, I thought Carmine would immediately react to help me; he'd traveled all of this way, so it had to have been his original intent. But he didn't step forward or bend to help me with Damien. He stepped back. He grunted.

I shot him an angry stare. "No." With the hand I used to hold Damien's head still, I pointed at Carmine. "Do not do that. Please don't." Glancing down at Damien, I frowned. "If I'm to be the queen of Homestead, I need to care for everyone. Damien included."

Carmine took another step away from me. And another. His head shook from side to side as he grunted.

"No. No. No." Vigorously, I shook my head. "Look, I don't know what you're trying to tell me. I don't speak horse." I narrowed my eyes. "But you and I have always communicated just fine up until now, so what I'm going to need you to do is make this clear—what do you want me to do?"

My horse, never faltering from his decisions, took another step away from me. The clouds passed overhead, dropping an ominous glow on his face, enhancing the white of his hair, his mane. There was even a glint in his black eyes, as if I could see his thoughts. For some reason, I felt as if he wanted to tell me to leave Damien behind, to pretend as if I hadn't taken the path towards the Gate.