Ψ · Achilles, Achilles, Achilles, come down

The observant horse didn’t miss the look the young woman gave his horn, and he could understand her willingness to not start trouble. He appreciated the choice—not everyone was as smart as to avoid attempting to hunt a horse that could feed a small pack for months if the meat was stored properly.

His tail flicked lightly at her condolences, muzzle dipping in acknowledgement. “It was several years back by now. The life of a horse can be fickle. I’m part of a wolf pack in the west now, and they don’t begrudge me for my species, nor do they attempt to eat me.” The last he added with a whickered chuckle, rumbling deep in his barrel.

The fireflies flickered and danced, holding in one place as though waiting, and he sighed, one ear canting back at her question. He was silent for a moment as he considered the voices he heard even now, whispering, beckoning to follow. “I do not know. I don’t hear my mother’s voice among them. Horses live quite a bit longer than wolves, so she could well be alive still. I don’t hear my sister, either… So… perhaps. I hope not…”

He gestured with his whiskery muzzle at the fireflies as he added, “They seem pretty insistent on being followed, though. Perhaps...”

Finally, he gave in, keeping a good several feet between himself and the edge of the cliff as he took a few steps toward the fireflies, tipping his head to study the young wolf with one teal eye around his barrel and hip.

"Perhaps, though it may be foolish to follow them, we may find answers if we do."

Walk ---- "Speak" ---- "Hear" ---- Think