somethinghuman | I found something, In the woods somewhere

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amalthea,
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I found something, In the woods somewhere

It'd been two days since he'd helped Amalthea hide in the woods, and R was already anxious about that decision. Unicorn or not, there might be wolves, or predators, or just bad things out there that might set their sights on her. She may be magic, but she was alone.

She might get lonely. He knew he did.

He waffled and fretted for a few hours that morning before he finally decided that yes, he was clingy, but he was being clingy in her best interests. Maybe stopping at her own flower shop to get lilacs just because she'd said she liked them was dumb, especially considering she was a unicorn and not a girl, and he was buying flowers in a city just to take them into the woods. But he thought that if there was any chance she was lonely, or sad, that she might like them.

The trek to the woods took longer without someone to keep him on a straight path. By the time he found the creek the flowers were sort of limp and wilted, and his shoes and pant legs were muddy. But he'd found the right place, and now he just needed to find the girl. The unicorn.

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Forget the smile, he was full on beaming now. Carefully, he held the wilted branches for her to access more easily, and unable to help himself, ran a careful hand over the impossibly soft strands of her mane. When in doubt, bring flowers.

Shrugging, he shuffled his feet. "D-Darrow's... diff... erent." He said. Maybe she had lived alone and safely before, but here magic did strange things like change unicorn's shapes and stick dead boys to strangers. Who knew what happened in the woods when it was too dark to see and no one else was around.

But that was only one part of it, and he knew it. His motives were good, but not completely unselfish. "And... I... missed... y-you." He admitted. He missed her smell and holding her hands when she had them, but he also just missed being around her.

He worried about her being lonely, but with her gone in the woods, he might have been lonely himself.

She lifted her head and lightly touched her muzzle to his cheek.

"Bring the lilacs over here," she said as she moved further away from the stream. She found a spot she knew got plenty of sun, even in the woods. "You can plant them, even though they're branches."

The unicorn knew they would take root here; perhaps it would be hit-or-miss in any other place, but this was her forest, and anything planted here would prosper. She pawed at the dirt, disturbing it.

"Stick them in the ground, here."

For a split second he thought the soft fuzz of her muzzle might have tickled, but then it was gone. Shaking it off, he watched her with wide eyes and stumbled to follow, careful not to wilt or ruin the lilacs more than they had been by the trip.

"Th-they'll... grow?" He asked. They were cut, and dead. He didn't think a dead thing could grow and come back to life. But taking her word for it, he knelt where she'd unsettled the dirt and began to stick the branches in place. The smell of freshly churned earth made his insides twist and knot. It was the same smell that made him think of holes and graves, of closing his eyes in the dark and listening to the worms dig. But with Amalthea there to wash over it, the smell was lost. Her's was not the smell of death and burial, it was the smell of life.

When every sprig had been placed, he looked up at her. "Didn't... think... d-dead... things... grew." He said, looking between her and the soft petals.

"Lilacs can," she said. The unicorn lowered her head and let her horn touch each branch. The flowers and leaves all perked up at the extra care.

"They'll take root and grow into bushes of their own, and the forest will smell like them every spring. It was always spring in my forest - the lilacs were always in bloom."

If she could smile, she would have given one to R just them. She now had a little thing to look forward to - she couldn't wait to see them next year, to watch them grow as she had watched the animals in her forest grow and reproduce and die. It never got old to her, because she could never get old.

I like her magic better. R thought, watching in awe as the flower branches shivered and stood up at her care. He'd only thought that the lilacs might make her happy, fleetingly, but instead they would last forever. By accident, he'd helped grow something.

Sometimes dead things could come back. It made the hollow of his chest ache, but in a way that was almost sweet. It reminded him of something. Something he couldn't quite remember.

"S-sounds... pretty." He said, feeling wistful. He wished he could have seen it too. A place that was always thriving. "My... h-home..." he trailed off. "It... d-died... a long... time... ago." Looking up, he gave her a smile. "B-but... th-things... can... change. Gr-row."

"Things can always grow. Even in a land that is barren, there can be life."

She moved close and gave him a gentle nuzzle. He smelled faintly of death and dying, but there was more under there. Sickness, like poison. She could cure poison; she could revive the dead.

The unicorn wondered if she could heal R. As a human girl it was impossible, her magic so greatly reduced. But now she was herself, who knew for how long.

"R, do you ever... miss being human?"

He leaned into the nuzzle. It wasn't the same as holding hands, but considering she didn't have arms, he had to admit it was just as effective.

It takes him a moment to consider her question. Can you miss something you don't actually have any memory of? Or is it just envy at that point? Raising one shoulder, he wiped his hand on his pant leg before reaching up to touch her. "D-don't... rrr-remember... it," he admitted, giving her shoulder an idle stroke.

Head tilting, he nodded though. "But... want... to be? Sh-shh-ould... be. Want... a life. Want..." He looked down at the lilac sprigs, already looking happier and healthier just from being stuck in the ground. "... to... gr-grow."

"I brought a prince back to life, once. He died, but I brought him back. I've cured poisoned wounds. I could... try. I could try to heal you, R."

Before all of this she would never have sounded so tentative; more than that, she might never have asked, she simply would have looked at him and seen something she could help. The unicorn didn't know if it would work, if he was too far gone, but she had never been without success. Her magic had never failed her, and until she'd spent two years as a human girl, she'd never questioned it.

Fairy tales don't work in real life, do they? Maybe that was a pessimistic look at it, but R wasn't a prince. He was just a zombie who'd spent years shuffling around, reluctantly eating brains, and trying to make the best of the fact that everything was dull and quiet and gone.

But this wasn't the city. Or the airport. It was Darrow, and Amalthea was his fiend. She was also a unicorn. Maybe if anyone could do anything, it was her.

Hope was a dangerous thing, but a glimmer of it settled between his ribs and made a home.

"C-could... try," he agreed, too nervous and wide eyed to be excited. He didn't want her to feel bad if it didn't work. He didn't want to be disappointed, either.

The unicorn considered the boy in front of her, the one who was dead but not dead. She moved closer to him and lowered her head, slow and deliberate. It never took much: a touch brought Lir back to life, and he had been dead.

The point of her horn was sharp, like a pin. She touched it to R's chest, over his heart, and left it there. She felt the warmth of her magic; she saw the sickness in him like darkness and burned it away.

Corpses don't feel pain. They don't feel anything.

But R feels something. Holy shit does he feel something.

It starts like a heat, then flares, and flares, and flares. He's not on fire, there's no flames, and it doesn't so much hurt as it's too much. He hasn't felt anything, nothing substantial, for as long as he can remember, but suddenly he's overwhelmed. He wants to push her head away and scramble back because it's not right and he doesn't want it to eat him up.

But then it ebbs. There's relief. A sweet balm where the fire was before, and then as the seconds tick by, there's nothing.

And he can breathe. Feel his toes. Feel his heart racing in his throat as he struggles to swallow.

Sucking in a shaky breath, R blinks, and tries to orient himself. He stares at Amalthea's pale head and tries to make sense of everything. "Did... did it?" Did it work? Is this living?

The unicorn stepped back to look at him. He smelled different; he looked different. Color flooded him, and his eyes went from a sort of dull grayish color to a stunning blue. She flicked her ears and moved away from him, toward the creek. There were quiet parts of it where reflections showed. She knew because she had already spent time looking at herself there.

"Look," she said, bobbing her head toward the water.

There's too much and not enough all at once. R wiggles his fingers and then his toes, tilts his head side to side and blinks over and over. The world looked... brighter, somehow. But smell was strange. The green smell of forest was suddenly strong, but Amalthea's scent was all but gone. Like it'd never been there.

Strangely, he missed it.

Stumbling, he paused then took more deliberate strides. His footing was shaky, but he managed a straight line.

When he peeked to look, he stared. Oh, that's me.

"You did it," he said, stunned. Pressing a shaky hand to his chest, just over where her horn had stabbed in, he took a breath and waited. Underneath was a steady heartbeat. "Holy crap, you did it."

She nuzzled his cheek, gentle and deliberate. "You're alive," she said gently. "You're human."

They were both as they should be, and she took joy in that. R's words came easier to him, his movements less bogged down, more deliberate. He seemed far less like he was trying to force himself to be something and much more like he was simply... being.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel..." he scrambled to think. I feel my heart beating, and my clothes against my skin. I feel my stomach pinching because I'm hungry but not ravenous. I feel the sun and smell the grass and can feel the softness of your muzzle. I feel like I'm about to burst apart at the seams because there's so much. "I feel everything."

Eagerly, he ran a hand over the grass and bit around a grin when it was slippery with moisture. He dipped a hand into the water and yanked it back when it was almost cold.

Huffing a laugh, he turned and wrapped his arms around Amalthea's neck. She was soft, almost silky, and warm. Grinning he pressed his face in close and let the hair tickle his forehead. For once, there was no secret urge to bite he had to squash down.

Suddenly, R hugged her, wrapped around her neck and buried his face against her. The bold move startled the unicorn, but only for a moment. Everything in her seemed to soften and she turned her head to rest it against him, attempting to return the embrace as much as she could.

"And you're alright?" She knew well how jarring sudden changes could be, but perhaps it wasn't painful or strange to him to be himself again, no matter how long he'd spent as a zombie. "Do you... remember anything?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted, his words mumbled as he tried to squash down the urge to just keep holding on and rubbing his face against her. She might be dandelion soft and warm, but latching on like a needy octopus might be taking it a bit far. Reluctantly, he forced himself to loosen his hold.

He tried to picture his family's names and faces, but nothing came. Then his own, his home, his school, his friends and the only ones he could think of were Julie and M, and then the people he'd met in Darrow. A sliver of disappointment stung, but it didn't bite the way he expected. "No," he shook his head. "Maybe it's too soon?"

"Perhaps." She gave him a gentle nuzzle, seeing his disappointment. She did not want him to hurt, not when he was living again. "You have been neither living nor dead, in a place in between, and perhaps memories just need time to come back."

The unicorn found herself feeling a strange, unwelcome doubt: what if this didn't last? What if, before long, R went back to the way he was when they met? What if she did? If this was some strange trick on Darrow's part, maybe her healing of him would only last as long as she did. She shivered and tried to push the doubt and the fear from her mind: she hadn't been plagued by such feelings before becoming human, and she could not shake them off, even as an immortal.

She looked at R, fond and soft, and gave him a gentle nudge. "Is there anything that you want to do now that you are alive again?"

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I found something, In the woods somewhere

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