Hybridic's Naming Dreams

[hybridic]

Naming Dreams of Hybridic's kin, WIP!

[hybridic]

Meets-the-Sea

[imgright]https://i.imgur.com/z0B5L0Z.gif[/imgright]In the dream, I am running.

I know it is a dream because I have not yet run, have not yet stretched my small, still-growing legs out into the fantastic rhythm of flight-and-fall that in the dream I feel so vividly.

So, I run. I run through the swamp, out of the swamp, the soft suck-and-pull of the marshy ground slowly fading into firmness of dry earth and then the harder click of rocks under my hooves. I run until the familiar sounds of my swampy home melt away and then suddenly there is another sound, a new sound, a sound of heave-and-push, crash-and-fall that thrums in my ears with a steady ache that pulls me, pulls me, pulls me onwards and onwards, through the strange not-swamp and the unfamiliar lands, the sound becoming louder and louder, pulling and pulling and thrumming and thrumming in my ears, my blood, my veins, until, suddenly --

I break through to the top of a cliff, my hooves scrambling to a stop on the rough stone and an unfamiliar taste in the windy air. There it is, roiling in front of me, crashing below me, pulling in me and through me and all around me, blue and green and silver-white foam, the eternal tug and pull that runs through my veins, the life that I feel within myself now that I have met the sea. 

[hybridic]

Thoushalt

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... vagues.gif[/imgleft]

A young Kimeti wanders the swamp alone
In search of its way, of its place, of its home.
"Shall I slither along, through the mud and the rot?"
The watersnake answers, "Thou Shalt Not."

The young one continues, unbothered, to roam,
Through the ferns and the moss, through the peat and the loam.
"Shall I hunt with my beak, with my paws swipe and swat?"
The owlcat answers, "Thou Shalt Not."

Growing worried and tired, the young swamp-goat gets lost
Night begins to fall and the ground starts to frost.
"Shall I flutter on bright wings from spot to spot?"
The giant moth answers, "Thou Shalt Not."

Dejected, exhausted, he falls to the ground,
Worrying now that he'll never be found.
"Shall I ever be home?" he cries, eyes full of salt.
The motherswamp answers, "Of course, Thou Shalt."

[hybridic]

Acorn Crop
[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... vagues.gif[/imgright]
They fall from the trees.

From the trees, the acorns fall.
She gathers them, one by one,
piles them around her in haphazard circles,
organizes them by size, weight, color.
A crop of acorns.

They fall from the trees.

The skulls of the swamp fall,
cracking against the roots of the mangroves.
Doe, buck, kimeti; kiokote, acha, eaglehound --
large and small, smooth and weathered --
eye sockets staring up at the doe with the dark wing
who gathers, gathers
her acorn crop.

[hybridic]

Toadflax

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... harper.gif[/imgleft]

Happy yellow faces
budding all around --
snapdragon, toadflax
growing from the ground!

Sprouting from the hillsides
and twisting 'round your toes --
it's snapdragon, toadflax
or little bunny-nose!

inspired by Cecily Mary Barker's Song of the Toadflax Fairy

[hybridic]

Susurrus
[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... harper.gif[/imgright]
There are voices in the trees.
They rustle and whisper,
murmuring words that I can hear but cannot understand.

There are voices in the water.
Bubbles float up to the surface, rippling --
writing strange languages in the flickering reflections.

There are voices underground.
They crunch and crumble, creaking, cracking --
scratching claws tapping in codes
that I can almost decipher.

There are voices in the air.
The soft tongue of a butterfly's wings
is speaking, speaking --
whispering secrets.

There are voices all around me.
Rushing, shushing, sending messages.
The voices are everywhere, everywhere,
surrounding me with this soft susurrus of sounds.

[hybridic]

Broken Bird

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... vagues.png[/imgleft]

the brightest streak
falls from the sky --
a broken bird,
no more to fly.

[hybridic]

Asks-Again
[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... n_vags.gif[/imgright]
"What did you call me?" The buck's voice was harsh, cutting, fierce. His eyes burned with just-subdued rage, the bitter product of years of nameless shame.

The other Totoma turned, shocked, and raised his brows. "You don't want to know," he responded cockily, a mean smirk twisting the corner of his mouth.

The nameless one growled, fuming with anger. His words were clipped, sharp -- but he asked again. "What. did. you. call. me?"

Cruel laughter glittered in the eyes of the other Totoma. "Coward," he hissed.

With a snort of anger, the nameless one stomped a cracked hoof and charged. He didn't have to ask again.

[hybridic]

Knapweed

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... vagues.gif[/imgleft]

the weeds climb up around her ankles -
she won't stay trapped within their tangles

[hybridic]

Bites-Twice
[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgright]
She was not the strongest, or the fastest, or the smartest. She was not the bravest or the cleverest or the wisest. She was not even the most resourceful. But she never gave up.

She knew when the battle started that she could not win. Her opponent was full-grown, a hardened fighter who had defeated many Totoma in battle and had the scars on his skin and the cracks in his horns to prove it. She, on the other hand, was small and wiry, untested in battle, still nameless. She had no false hopes of gloriously defeating her foe.

Still, she did not intend to go down without a fight. Bloody and half-beaten she lay, knowing she couldn't last another rush from her opponent. But when he wheeled around and came thundering back toward her, head lowered, she was ready. At the last minute, she rolled aside, her mouth snapping desperately for the soft spot under his jaw. Her teeth found purchase and she clamped down, tasting blood. With the last of her energy she bit him -- twice. 

[hybridic]

Serves-None

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgleft]

His brother's tribe had been a strong one, won with honor and united by force and strength of will. When the leader died -- fatally gutted by a boar on a hunt gone awry -- no one expected his nameless brother to be the one to step up and take his place. The golden-antlered buck was not the prime example of a totoma -- frivolous, self-centered, and even, some whispered, more apt to back down from a fight than not -- but the idea that he might have to bow down to some young upstart rankled him. He was proud, egotistical, haughty -- and although he was not the first into a fight, he was still as stubborn as the next totoma, and knew that he had to use the skills that were his to forge a new life for himself after his brother's death.

These skills he possessed -- charm, wit, and the power to win over others to his side with his words -- did not serve to persuade the entirety of his brother's tribe of his right to lead them, but a fair amount decided to follow. His words had charmed them, and a loyal few declared they would stand by him through thick and thin. With support at his back, the buck knew he could not fail. "I will no longer step back and follow in the hoofprints of another. My time to lead has come and I will take it. From this day forth, I shall serve none." 

[hybridic]

With Your Consent
[imgright]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgright]
The buck was proud, the doe not mild -
She, fearing that her dreams were wild
went storming to the other's nest
(some loves might not withstand the test).

But on arrival, knee was bent;
he could, then, be subservient!
And when, at last, she wished for more
(expecting him to swim for shore)
he bowed his head, knew what she meant -
grinned, and replied: "With your consent."

[hybridic]

Overgrown

[imgleft]https://matope.pixel-blueberry.com/imag ... uncert.png[/imgleft]

Throughout the long winter, she slept. Cold wind blew snow and earth into her cave, scattering it around her. Stalactites dripped their cold, mineral-rich water down onto her horns, her scales.

Through the spring, she slept. The melting ice ran in cold streams down her face, over her back, silt gathering like riverbanks in her fur. Sparrows laid their eggs in the the tangle of her hair, weaving their nests out of last season's grass, scattering seeds around them.

When summer came, sunlight flowing golden into the corner of the cave as if blown by the warm breeze, the dark eyes slid open. She stood, shook, shedding dirt and pebbles from her back with a sound like rain. Plants fell in a cascade from her face, leaves and blossoms reaching upward for warmth as she stepped into the sun. The time before her waking did not exist, the memories overgrown, as she was, with new life.