A Boon

[E!]

A rock fell, clattering downward and creating a cascade of echoes that seemed to fade into the night. Luk watched its descent until the darkness swallowed the small piece of granite, the only evidence of it ever having been there being the fading echoes. Luk twitched an ear, gazing downward with red rimmed eyes. There was a look of quiet curiosity on his thin face, alongside the usual strange madness that hid behind his pale blue eyes. Though the night was dark, with no moon to catch in the hairs of his pale coat and mane, Luk stood out as a smudgy shadow. His slight frame and long, slender legs looked oddly stretched, as if he had been put out of focus by the lack of light.

Luk examined the sheer edge of the rock, quite intrigued by its depth and darkness - what lived down at the bottom of this hole? Was it bare rock and blackness? Or did some greenery catch the light and thrive? Perhaps even other horses lived down there, a whole world Luk was unaware of. There, a plateau of hard rock - a good place to stand upon to gaze downward. Luk picked his way to the solid earth, blue eyes unusually keen as he picked out.. very slowly, a way downward.. to where, surely, the valley floor must lie.

The way down was difficult - but Luk was in a dangerous mood, and felt no sway of vertigo or fear for the edge.. as other horses would. Their sense was not something Luk shared. His little, neat hooves touched the rocky, overgrown pathway with more and more confidence as he descended. Other horses had come this way.. long ago - there, a single broad hoofprint imprinted in the earth from countless times of passing. Luk did not pause to wonder at these - he was on a mission. Getting to the floor was all he could think of. And suddenly, he was there. His small hooves touched the valley floor with a sense of certainty. This valley was unoccupied.. now. Though there was the signs of use from other brumbies - some not too old. Luks nose touched the ground as he snuffed the prints of another, a mare perhaps? Next to her prints were those of a dingo.

Luk felt the unpleasant sting of nerves at its scent.. but the print was old, and nothing remained to say that the wild dog still lived in this valley. Thunder sounded and Luk jumped, piercing blue eyes staring upward at the sky as it broke apart and the first drops of rain touched his pale pink nose. It seemed to him as if the weather spoke - it was granting him this boon, to wash away all evidence of others in this valley, to make it renewed.. and his.