What Chases Us in the Dark

When Donner awakens, it’s with a start.

It’s a strange way for him to wake up and a disorienting one at that. Usually, he wakes up slowly and unwillingly, huddling up under blankets and shutting his eyes as tightly as he can manage to try and stave off the coming of morning. Even now, as a full-fledged bull, his mom still sometimes teases him for being such a sleepyhead.

But he’s awake now in the dead of night because something is off. Something is amiss. There’s an anxious feeling churning in his belly, the kind that often told him that wolves were prowling about too close for comfort or that a golden eagle had spotted him from above the clouds and was primed to swoop down on him.

The feeling doesn’t make much sense. He and Rudy are both snug within a stable and while it wasn’t the nicest of lodgings around, they still had fresh hay bedding and plenty of wall hooks to hang up their bags and harnesses and even a little desk to put their things on. They’re warm. They’re safe. There’s nothing to be so worried about.

He worries anyways because his self-reassurances aren’t as comforting as they usually are. It’s dark in here. Too dark to see much of anything. The candle must have gone out. Yeah, that must be what’s causing the nervous feeling. Light was important for keeping predators away after all, even if none were to be found within a stable.

He shifts and unfolds his legs, stretching them out carefully until his hooves clack on the wooden flooring and he can stand without stepping on his little brother by accident. Pressing a hand to the wall, he follows the paneling with trailing fingers, bumping into their hanging saddlebags and knocking a fetlock into the edge of the desk with a sharp clatter and a stifling of curse words. Blindly, he feels for the candle only to find it rolled halfway across the desk after being jostled from its holder. Back into the jar it goes and a matchbox comes out of a pocket sewed into the lining of his sweater.

Donner does feel a bit better once the match is struck and the candle lit. The flame is tiny, but its gentle flickering along with the soft shadows thrown onto the walls are familiar and comforting. It makes him think of home. How long has it been since he’s been home? Since he’s seen his mom and dad? Too long he figures given the sudden homesickness blooming in his chest. Once this delivery is over and done with, maybe they’ll head back towards Knot Hill. Long Night was coming up and there was nowhere else in the world Donner would rather celebrate it than his hometown.

How far are they from home anyways? He plucks his saddlebags from the wall, rummaging through them until he finds his map and spreads it across the desk next to the candle. Everpines is their destination and it would take at least another day or two to reach. About three weeks and some change travel from Everpines to Knot Hill if his calculations are correct and the paths aren’t blocked, and that could be shortened to two weeks if the shortcut through the Singing Spires is clear, but taking that path would involve rock hopping. Risky for an adult and even riskier for a calf. He taps a finger on the paper in thought and looks over at Rudy.

The calf is curled up on his side, half-buried in hay, and Donner snorts at the sight. Of course he fell over. Rudy always fell over in his sleep unless propped against a rock or a sturdy tree or his brother’s flank. Training him to sleep properly, sitting up with his hooves tucked in for the warmth, had been a fool’s errand so far. He was sure to grow up into a leaning sleeper whether Donner liked it or not.

But that fact wasn’t about to stop him from trying to teach Rudy well, no sir. He was a good big brother and as such, he was going to at least get him to sleep on his front. That way, his hooves would be warm.

Abandoning the map and his plans, Donner trots the short distance to his brother and kneels down beside him with a grunt. He lays a hand on his shoulder, shaking him slightly.

“Rudyyy… Hey, Rudy!”                                                                                                                                                                  

A grunt. A muffled whine as the young bull curls up further.

Donner chuckles. They definitely were brothers, regardless of their separate bloodlines. “C’mon now. You gotta sleep right, remember?” He moves to get his arms more under Rudy, ready to lift him if need be. “Let’s get you up…”

He’s startled when Rudy suddenly rolls over, the bell clipped to his scarf ringing out in the silence, and  clutches at his sweater and buries his face against his elder brother’s stomach. That displaced, nervous feeling takes root again and Donner quickly responds in kind, pulling the calf into a tight hug and gently shushing him as he quakes in his arms and hiccups back tears.

Donner internally berates himself a little for having forgotten. They’ve been so busy working and traveling and playing together that he’d forgotten how difficult the nights could be for Rudy. How his brother would sometimes wake up crying and calling out for his lost mama and papa. How he would, on rare occasions, get up, half-awake and panicking, and bolt outside to look for them and Donner would have to chase him down and bundle him up in the heaviest blanket he had on hand and gently coax him back inside with promises of hot cocoa and maple candy treats.

Rudy can’t get away from him like that again, especially not here. Not in this tiny town that barely had a name, surrounded by a lush, shade-soaked forest. Rudy might get lost. They might not be able to find each other again. His ears flatten against his head and he clings to his little brother tighter, huddling around him as though his bulk could shield them from the bad dreams and the bad thoughts.

“Hey now, it’s okay. I’m not mad. We just gotta get you sleeping proper.” It doesn’t matter that what he’s saying has nothing to do with what Rudy is feeling, he just needs to say something so his brother can focus on it. Can focus on him and not on his grief. “But not tonight. We’ll try again tomorrow, okay?”

It takes a moment, but Rudy nods and gives a quivering, stuttering hum of acknowledgement. The embrace is broken slowly, reluctantly, and only after Donner gives his brother a few hearty pats on the back. Rudy looks a mess of course, all red-eyed and ruddy-faced and still breathing a little funny. He pulls at his scarf, using the cloth to wipe away the tears and the snot, and Donner grimaces and decides that they’re going to have to make a stop to do some laundry tomorrow. They had to follow the river to Everpines anyways.

“You hungry? Thirsty? You gotta be thirsty after getting all that out of your system. Here,” he grabs Rudy’s rucksack, digging around its contents and finding the waterskin buried at the bottom. Pulling it free causes a bone recorder and a few small books to come tumbling out as well. He passes the waterskin to Rudy. “Take a few big gulps. We’re gonna get fresh water in the morning.”

Rudy is a good boy and does as he’s told, drinking deeply as his brother stuffs his things back into the rucksack rather gracelessly and leaving the bag bulging in places. Taking hold of the last dropped book gives him pause. It’s an older title that Rudy picked up from an antique store awhile back and barely put down since. The cover was a faded burgundy and the binding was starting to come loose in places from it having been read and re-read so many times over. “The Little Prince of Rainbows” was written across the front in chipped gold lettering.

He looks over at his brother. “Hey, how about we read for a bit? I don’t think I’m tired enough for sleeping yet.”

Rudy’s ears perk up. “Ca-c-can we? It’s ok-okay?”

“Course! Of course! Put’cherself right here,” He gives his broad side an inviting pat, “I’ll even do voices. Let’s just see if I can find where you left off…”

It’s a little difficult to make out the words and the page numbers with just the light of the candle, but he can make do. Once Rudy is settled and leaning rather heavily against his side with his cheek pillowed on all the fur and fluff, Donner begins to read aloud, grateful that they’re the only patrons of the stable this evening so he won’t be bothering anyone.

The tale is a simple one, full to brimming with tropes and clichés, but Rudy likes this story given how often Donner saw him reading it. Farm boy. Call to adventure. Powerful magic and ancient weapons. New friends joining along the way. Witty, if predictable banter. Thrilling clashes between good and evil. A sappy ending. The whole nine yards.

He uses his own voice for the narration and for the main character, even if it’s too deep for someone so young. He puts on what he thinks is a hilarious falsetto for the rough-around-the-edges witch-in-training that accompanies the hero. He stumbles over a few odd words he doesn’t recognize in the gravelly-toned monologues of the villain, wishing momentarily that his mother were here to explain their meanings. He keeps reading even as Rudy stops shifting around so much and his breathing evens out and deepens because it’s a good story. The kind of story his dad would make up whenever he returned from a long delivery and Donner begged and pleaded to know every last detail of his trip.

He makes the promise to himself then to take Rudy to Knot Hill after this job is completed. Give him some time with a mom and dad that were sure to dote on him just as they had doted on their own son. Surely that would soothe a bit of the pain and the grief. Surely he would be happy to be a part of a loving family again.

Donner reads until the sun is just beginning to peak through the slats of the window blinds and he’s almost reached the end of the book, big plans brewing in his mind all the while.

They’re going home soon. All he asks is that Rudy wait just a little longer.