"Stick with your mother and don't look back!"
Those last words kept ringing in Dianthus' ears, along with the sensation of the reddening sky washing over his back and the non-stop tremor of the earth resounding through his very hooves with each leap. If his father had said something more to his mother, he couldn't know; his mind had gone numb as soon as he started running. He remembered the sudden wave of white heat, the sharp whistle in his ears as the aether was shattered by Griselda's cry and, finally, the impact between the dragonfire and Chrysantos' powerful magic. Everything had rushed upon him with the speed and the violence of a meteor; one moment he was weeping, huddled in Chrysantos' embrace, and the moment after he was escaping the raging inferno.
Then nothing more. Dianthus, his mother, and Cassidy had gotten to the cave within an awfully short time, and the sounds of the battle had died down all of a sudden. They were safe.
The fighters had left the forest, Dianthus knew it, but no one from the huge gathering of creatures (deer, birds, smaller mammals, and even the only manticore) was eager to leave the shelter too soon. Differences and Nature's laws bent before misery. A dragon was no match for any other creature in the forest; everyone was prey and victim. Wolf sat by deer, fox by rabbit, owl by mouse and so on, silently praying for their home to survive the fire from under the broad crown of the majestic tree.
Dianthus spent the first hours sleeping from exhaustion and shock—a deep sleep free of dreams—and when he awoke, he found that the light had dimmed drastically.
Now Dianthus sat in silence, contemplating the tufts of grass right in front of him as if the secrets of the universe lay hidden among them, or rather the answer to what was happening to his father, Griselda and the dragon. Did they escape? Did the forest burn to the ground? What was left of Willowglade? It didn't matter. None of that mattered because Dianthus couldn't know and neither did the tufts of grass. What he did know was that his father and Griselda were out there, facing peril, and everyone else was in here, safe.
Dianthus didn't have even the strength to glare at the insolent grass dazzling mockingly in his face.
Thalia was entranced in a similar task just by his side, in silence. The soft murmurs buzzing in the background couldn't reach them, and no one dared bother them. The unicorns had shut themselves from the rest to cope with grief and loss.
Eventually, even that merciful state of mind came to an end. When Dianthus looked up, his mother had already gathered herself and was a little farther away speaking with Chief Oak.
At that very moment, Birch and Cassidy walked up to him. Dianthus knew that they had been waiting for him, observing him from afar for all this time. He wanted to thank them for their patience, but when the two friends sat down, all Dianthus could do was blink.
"Hey," Birch said plainly, in a small, uncharacteristic voice.
Dianthus blinked again, slowly, somehow acknowledging the fawn.
Neither Birch nor Cassidy knew what to say, and for several seconds there wasn't any other interaction. What could they ever say? Unicorns were peculiar, sensitive creatures and one must be especially careful with words in certain circumstances. In every circumstance. The total absence of emotions on their faces was most disarming, especially when they should have been overwhelmed.
Still, no one could read minds. Dianthus was aware of this, so for his own sake and his friends', he willed himself to snap out of that state.
"You well?"
He almost winced at his own voice, and so did the other two. He didn't mean to sound so hoarse, not at all, but it felt like those were his first words in days. He cleared his voice and tried again.
"Sorry for the waiting," he managed to say. "I didn't mean to ignore you two."
"Don't mention it," Cassidy dismissed immediately, maybe a bit too quickly. "Maybe you would like some water? We asked, and we can drink from the lake. It's pretty nice," the filly suggested, eager to help.
Dianthus nodded and let them lead the way.
The surface of the water was still and clear as glass and offered a pristine reflection. Another unicorn gazed back at him, his mane shaggy, his fur fuzzy and splotched with ash, ears low and bloodshot eyes, still damp from weeping. What a pitiful sight. His first instinct was to turn back, curl into a ball and feel sorry for himself for another couple of hours. He sighed deeply and craned his neck to the water.
The unicorn's muzzle lingered a few moments before diving into the water. It turned out that water was not only good-looking: it was the freshest and the sweetest water he had ever tasted, and despite himself, it did make him feel a little bit better. He didn't want to feel better. A part of him argued that he didn't deserve it. Still, the thirst won, and he drank, savoring the taste and the soothing sensation blooming within. He needed that.
"You were right," he told Cassidy once finished. "It is pretty nice."
"I know, right? The grass, too, is better here!"
Dianthus shot a glace to the emerald green grass; every blade looked so perfect that even carnivores would give it a try, but the knot forming in the pit of his stomach forbade Dianthus to concede himself the smallest bite. He looked away.
"'Course it's good," Birch spoke up, snapping Dianthus' attention up again. "You haven't stomped on it yet!" He said to Cassidy.
Cassidy put on her most indignant face and ruffled her feathers with exaggerated emphasis.
Dianthus watched the two, blinking slowly. Really, guys? Now, of all times?
"Always the gentlestag, you!" Cassidy pouted.
"You know, courtesy is reserved for ladies..."
"The outrage!" the 'lady' protested in a shrill voice.
The stag put on his trademark smirk and continued, "My sentiments exactly: your peeping voice is really an outrage to our ears."
At that, Cassidy stuck her muzzle into the air with a loud "Arrumph!" fanning her wings and tail feathers like the most offended peahen.
Dianthus couldn't help but laugh at her display. The unicorn suspected that the hopeless charade had been planned out to lift his spirits, but little did it matter to him: it worked.
Thalia observed the three from a distance, a soft smile graced her tired features, at seeing her foal laugh. They hadn't talked since their escape, not yet. They did not need to. They had just huddled together for most of the time, both isolated yet close in their state of shock reaction.
Now the night was falling, the other creatures had calmed down, and fatigue was overcoming fear. Even Dianthus, who had slept through most of the day, eventually walked up to his mother with his pegasus friend. Birch, instead, left to join his herd. The unicorn mare smiled as her foal got closer, welcoming him to sit with her.
"Dianthus, dearest," she purred softly.
Dianthus offered a small smile of his own in return and curled up against her side.
"Cassiopea, wait," Thalia called the leaving pegasus who turned in attention. "Tomorrow I will call for your parents to come here...the emergency has passed," she said. "Would you like to stay with us, tonight?"
Cassidy smiled shyly and trotted back. She wouldn't have hoped that Thalia herself would invite her to stay around—even better, to cuddle with them, the filly realized when Thalia pulled her closer to Dianthus so she could embrace both foals. Cassidy managed to murmur a "thank you" and drifted away to sleep beside Dianthus, unable to keep her eyes open any longer.
That poor thing, Thalia thought and cast a loving eye upon the filly. Cassidy had put on a brave face all the time to support Dianthus when the pegasus herself was scared, confused and away from her family with no news from the outside. Yes, Cassidy could be a lightheaded daredevil and a bit of a rebel, but she was one brave filly and a precious friend to Dianthus.
Thalia was about to lie down but sensed that Dianthus was still awake, silent. She stroked his mane gently.
"Mother?" Dianthus said softly. "Father will be alright, won't he?"
"He will," Thalia whispered as she continued to stroke the foal. "Your father is strong."
"But he can't heal himself. What if..."
"Hush, Dianthus...dearest Dianthus," Thalia murmured soothingly with just a hint of pleading in her voice. "You will end up waking Cassiopea, the poor dear needs her sleep as much as you do."
Dianthus didn't reply and let his mother's voice lull him.
Gradually, all the cave drifted away to sleep, but something kept the earth guardian awake. Thalia thought of her mate, of course, she couldn't help it in spite of what she had told her son.
Later that night, she snuck out.
The chilly air carried a strong scent of approaching rain. Thalia moved like a white shadow, swift and quiet across the dead-silent forest. Everything looked fine to a distracted eye, but the weight of what had transpired hung in the very air, and it wasn't the storm. The storm had come already, leaving behind a sense of crushing emptiness.
When Thalia arrived at the family glade, her heart skipped a beat. The sanctuary had hosted the very apex of the battle before Chrysantos and Griselda were able to lure the dragon away. Those few minutes had brought such havoc the likes of which Thalia—in her venerable lifespan—had never seen.
Willowglade was no more.
Some of the fir trees circling the glade had been uprooted, the soil bore scars as deep and cruel to make the very earth resemble a wounded creature exhaling slow, ragged sighs; the grass was scorched and reduced to a few miserable tufts, the lake simply vanished into thin air and the willow...ah, the ancient willow! Torn in half was its once silver trunk and blackened to the roots, those still clawing desperately at the ground. Its remaining branches swung sadly to the night breeze, cracking now and then as if intoning a subtle lament.
Thalia stood a few steps distant beholding the grim scenario. To see that tree, her tree, broken and defeated like that finally brought painful tears to her eyes.
She threaded carefully across the destruction up to the wrecked tree, searching for the carved stars on the bark...and there they were, thankfully untouched by the fire. The second star, Chrysantos' star, gleamed weakly and unsteadily like a fading heartbeat.
"He's hurt...he's hurt..." The poor mare whimpered. For a moment, she was struck by the desire to go and look for him, but soon enough she came to her senses and slumped to the ground. She could not leave, she knew it, and Chrysantos had made her swear not to no matter what. Dianthus needed her, the Forest needed her. She could not go. The realization broke her.
A distant rumble echoed her sorrow.
That night the sky wept with her.
~◊~
The next morning Dianthus felt a little better. He didn't expect to see his father and Griselda appearing out of the tunnel, so he wasn't disappointed when he saw neither. He stirred awake and rose without sparing a single glance to the entrance of the tunnel, lest he get his hopes up by accident. He couldn't spend another day feeling miserable, although it was a tempting option. I've already caused enough trouble. Mother doesn't need me dragging my useless self behind her tail.
Dianthus looked at his mother, oblivious to her nighttime breakdown now that her usual mask of poise was in place again.
To be a queen, even a former one, was a tough job. The queen was supposed to be the crutch, the guiding light, the one with answers, and if she had no answers, she wouldn't make questions of her own. A queen wept in silence, and even if broken she endured, like the willow tree.
"Sir Chrysantos and Madame Griselda must've made a lot of distance to lose that dragon," Cassidy offered, anticipating Dianthus' own thoughts.
"It must be so" Dianthus agreed. "What do you say, Mother?"
"Oh, yes dear. They'll want to be sure to lead the dragon far away from here."
It wasn't a lie, but Thalia didn't mention anything else. Instead, she took a breath and looked at the giant tree growing on the island in the center of the lake. Dianthus hasn't questioned about it yet, she marveled.
At that moment, telltale wing flaps announced the arrival of Cassidy's family. The pegasi were on time.
"Mom! Dad!" Cassidy chirped, fluttering to her family. "And Alcyone, too!"
Cassidy's mother uttered a long coo and trotted up, immediately examining her daughter's primaries for possible damage. Uhm, no harm done.
Dianthus had never seen the pegasus mare before, but now it was clear from whom Cassidy has inherited her tawny pelt and freckles: her mother could as well be her twin, only bigger, more elegant and less messy. Her copper pelt and feathers shone like hot metal in the sunset, while Cassidy—much like himself—still had her foalish pelt and shaggy down feathers. That gave him to think: a few times Cassidy had told him he was all his father, especially when he shot that 'shut up stare' of his', as she called the looks Dianthus would give when he was really upset. "You give me chills! You're too much like your Da when you do that...except for the green eyes of course," she would say.
But I've never given it too much thought, he thought bitterly. Too busy thinking how different I am from him.
"Moooom...!"
"Hush, Cassiopea!" the mare shushed her. "You're unkempt as a fledgling, young lady! A dragon invasion is not a proper excuse to avoid daily preening."
Dianthus wondered what could be classified as an emergency serious enough to excuse a few ruffled feathers, but kept silent watching how Cassidy was tackled, secured between her mother's forelegs and forced to undergo the preening.
"Mom, not in front of my friends..." Cassidy whined helplessly. Birch's chuckle was heard from a distance, but the mare ignored her and turned to Thalia with a graceful nod.
"Thank you for taking care of my Cassiopea. I hope she behaved..."
"Again with that!" Cassidy protested. She was ignored, again, and the filly plopped herself down with a loud groan.
"It was no problem at all, Mistral. She was a sweetie and very brave too," Thalia said.
Cassidy smirked in triumph and puffed out her chest feathers with pride: "See?"
Mistral resumed preening the filly without giving her any satisfaction, earning another annoyed grumble from Cassidy.
"I presume Sir Chrysantos has not come back yet..." said Nimbus in a hushed voice.
"No...he has not," was Thalia's answer.
Dianthus shrunk at the reminder, and apparently Cassidy noticed it because she started to wriggle out of her mother's grasp like a weasel.
"Let go, Mom! I'm thirsty! You're coming along, Dianthus, aren't you?"
"Uh, sure, why n—"
The filly didn't wait a second more and pushed him all the way to the lake. The adult pegasi shook their heads in unison, but the scene brought a small smile to Thalia's muzzle. She would talk with her son later.
"I can walk on my own, you know," Dianthus protested at the urgent nudges of the filly.
"Sorry, but my mother is worse than...than..." Cassidy trailed off, grunting in frustration as the right word eluded her. "Alright, I'll tell you when it comes to me, but she's obsessed with grooming and preening and bathing..."
"You preen yourself quite often as well, whether there are others watching or not," Dianthus pointed out.
Cassidy huffed. "Well, would you like it if your mother started bathing you in front of others?"
"Unicorns don't do that."
"Exactly!"
Of course, Cassidy was exaggerating. She didn't give a broken rachis if her mother preened her in public; she was used to it being born in a flock, and pegasi were more birds than horses in some way. No, she used it as an excuse to take Dianthus away from the heavy talk. She had sensed where the conversation was heading and didn't want to see Dianthus crestfallen again.
"Birdie got away from her bath?"
"Good morning to you, Birch..." Cassidy deadpanned.
"Chill out, Cass, it's for fun!"
"Yeah, don't worry."
"I don't."
Cassidy rolled her eyes. Birch, you really are the brightest. However, those little shenanigans and Birch's big mouth were just what Dianthus needed.
Morning greetings over, Birch changed the subject.
"The herd's leaving," he announced matter-of-factly. "They say that the forest's safe now.
"So...what do we do?"
"What do you mean?" Dianthus asked, tilting his head, genuinely puzzled.
Birch rolled his eyes but kept his voice low, even if a little annoyed. "Hello? Forbidden cave, the giant tree just over there...your dreams, furball! What about all that stuff?"
Yeah, what about that? Dianthus turned to the tree. His dreams had left him alone that night, and he had other things he'd rather think about right now. He hardened his stare on the tree and stomped his hoof.
"I should have told my parents of those stupid dreams right away!"
So much for taking him away from heavy talks...good job, saphead. Cassidy glared at the fawn who, obviously, either didn't get the hint or ignored her.
"I should've trusted them!" Dianthus continued. "Father promised he would have told me when the time was right, well now he won't anyway and...and..."
"It wasn't your fault, Dianthus!" Cassidy interjected promptly. "It wasn't going to make any difference! That stupid dragon would have come anyway, remember? Madame Griselda spotted him like, three days ago!"
"Yeah, don't even try to blame yourself, kiddo. You couldn't have done anything to avoid that," Birch chimed in.
Cassidy looked at him, surprised. Birch saying something sweet for free?
"Father was tired. So very tired." Dianthus voice cracked and his ears fell behind his head. "If I hadn't snuck off, he and Mother wouldn't've come to look for me, wasting precious time..."
Birch shook his head. "No, no, it doesn't work like that. Maybe you would've spared your parents a wild goose chase in the middle of the night..."
Thanks, saphead. You really ARE the brightest in Ouranos Infinite...
"But if we weren't with you at that moment, Cassidy here could've been in danger descending from the cloudbank like she does every morning and your parents would have lost precious time to warn the herd by themselves because I wasn't there with you."
Cassidy raised her eyebrows, and so did Dianthus. Well, that was something neat to say, she admitted.
"The point is, you don't know what could have been," the fawn finished with a shrug. "Better not to break your head on it, uhu?"
Cassidy smiled. Look if cranky old Birch couldn't say it better?
"Maybe nothing. Maybe everything."
"Birch, you really need to shut up now," the filly said. "Before you say something stupid and ruin your otherwise pretty speech."
"Alright, alright." The fawn held up a hoof in surrender. "I'm done."
Maybe they're right, Dianthus told himself, staring back at his reflection. He couldn't have known of the attack, no one could.
But...why have my dreams stopped?