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She can smell the ocean.

Even with eons of distance between her and the endless stretch of water the taste of salt lingers on her tongue, buried under gunpowder and smoke. Her ears ring with shots fired and the dying screams of horses and men. The chaos crashes about her and yet she ignores it all, nimbly racing through the ranks of soldiers. Her hoof breaks through a fragile rib cage but barely slows her wild rush; the man on her back has long since given up steering her and instead clings desperately as they surge through the battle.

A soldier stumbles too close to her front and she digs sharp teeth into his shoulder, throwing him out of the way. His blood enhances the salt on her tongue and she renews her efforts to charge through the battle. At the edge of the carnage she leaps a corpse, her jaws dripping ichor and the men at the outpost scatter before her, rightfully fearing hell's steed.

Her rider fights for control again, his hands whipping against her neck and she shakes her head angrily, leaning towards the distant ocean. He's calling her name distantly, the touches becoming more urgent and she snaps at one of his hands, feeling her teeth connect. He neighs - neighs? - in pain but doesn't back off, still calling her name.

She shakes her head harder against the controlling force, blinking to clear the blood dripping into her eyes. She opens them to Hawkeye crowded close against her, his neck bleeding. The blood lingers on her tongue and does nothing to dispel the screams and gunshots she swears are still in the air. The cool night air gradually dries the sweat on her flanks as the pastures of DWR replace the battle field in her line of sight. He's waiting patiently when the dream finally clears, and catches her gaze for a long moment before moving aside to allow the humans towards them.

Feeling torn raw, she starts to say something but he stops her, shaking his head. "We all have nightmares. Wake me from one of mine and we'll call it even."

He's called away to have his neck looked at and she's left swaying in his absence, trembling under Michelle's hands as the handler steps in to lead her away. She can hear them whispering as she passes. Dangerous. Liability. Put down. The words mean little to her addled mind but she can't help but look back at Hawkeye, the vet tending to his neck as he stands unflinchingly. He meets her eyes and his gaze is somber, too heavy to handle.

She'll deal with it tomorrow. Everything will keep until tomorrow.

PTSD is a nasty thing, and it turns out Aris is as subject to it as anyone else. Will she be able to make a comeback, or will DWR be forced to send her away?

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Description
Music: [link]

Check THIS to see the full picture!

She can smell the ocean.

Even with eons of distance between her and the endless stretch of water the taste of salt lingers on her tongue, buried under gunpowder and smoke. Her ears ring with shots fired and the dying screams of horses and men. The chaos crashes about her and yet she ignores it all, nimbly racing through the ranks of soldiers. Her hoof breaks through a fragile rib cage but barely slows her wild rush; the man on her back has long since given up steering her and instead clings desperately as they surge through the battle.

A soldier stumbles too close to her front and she digs sharp teeth into his shoulder, throwing him out of the way. His blood enhances the salt on her tongue and she renews her efforts to charge through the battle. At the edge of the carnage she leaps a corpse, her jaws dripping ichor and the men at the outpost scatter before her, rightfully fearing hell's steed.

Her rider fights for control again, his hands whipping against her neck and she shakes her head angrily, leaning towards the distant ocean. He's calling her name distantly, the touches becoming more urgent and she snaps at one of his hands, feeling her teeth connect. He neighs - neighs? - in pain but doesn't back off, still calling her name.

She shakes her head harder against the controlling force, blinking to clear the blood dripping into her eyes. She opens them to Hawkeye crowded close against her, his neck bleeding. The blood lingers on her tongue and does nothing to dispel the screams and gunshots she swears are still in the air. The cool night air gradually dries the sweat on her flanks as the pastures of DWR replace the battle field in her line of sight. He's waiting patiently when the dream finally clears, and catches her gaze for a long moment before moving aside to allow the humans towards them.

Feeling torn raw, she starts to say something but he stops her, shaking his head. "We all have nightmares. Wake me from one of mine and we'll call it even."

He's called away to have his neck looked at and she's left swaying in his absence, trembling under Michelle's hands as the handler steps in to lead her away. She can hear them whispering as she passes. Dangerous. Liability. Put down. The words mean little to her addled mind but she can't help but look back at Hawkeye, the vet tending to his neck as he stands unflinchingly. He meets her eyes and his gaze is somber, too heavy to handle.

She'll deal with it tomorrow. Everything will keep until tomorrow.

PTSD is a nasty thing, and it turns out Aris is as subject to it as anyone else. Will she be able to make a comeback, or will DWR be forced to send her away?

<< PREVIOUS | NEXT >>