“Well if it isn’t Joanna’s little shadow.”

“There he goes again, Joanna must be looking for him.” 

“Hello little one!”

The voices echo in his head as he closes his eyes. Home. What was it like before?

For a moment, a split fleeting moment, he’s a foal again. Trotting along cobblestone streets with his head held high and tail curled over his back. The air is warm in the summertime sun, his dark coat soaking in the pleasant heat. The Coursers in the market square know him well, offering greetings to the colt as he passes by the stalls. Some were old, graying around the eyes and stumbling on cobbled knees. Others were his age, bright-eyed and shouting with glee as they played in the streets. All knew him, and all knew his mother. 

“Jay!” 

His mother calls to him over the throng of Coursers, her voice a beacon - like the sky blue ray that penetrates the heavens in the center of the city. The red roan’s head was high, the sun shining on her beautiful coat. Jay’s nimble legs pick up speed, scrambling against the stone under hoof to gallop to her. Eagerly, he presses to her side, soaking in her rich smell. The red mare embraces him in return with a bend of her neck, a few strands of mane escaping her braid and tickling his skin.

“What have I told you about wandering off like that?” She scolds him, but there’s laughter barely concealed in her voice.

“I was safe,” he retorted, his tone equally as jovial. “No one saw me!” No one but the chestnut colt he called a friend. 

Joanna fixes a stern eye on him, to which he responds with a cheeky grin. “You know the Swords don’t like strays,” she reminded him gently. “Especially those who go down into the dungeons unauthorized.” 

He squeals as his mother butts her head against his flank, hard enough to lose balance for a moment.

“You stink of the dungeon.” She nickered playfully. Her brown eyes were warm, alight with joy and love for her little colt. “Go wash up, supper is almost ready.” 

He stays by her side for a moment longer, shutting his eyes tightly and pressing his cheek harder to her side. Joanna’s whiskers tickled his ears as she lipped at his mane. 

“Run on home sweetling, I’ll be there soon.” 

What did she say? Jay strains his ears, his mother’s voice becoming faint despite her being right next to him. 

Her smell… her voice… it was becoming so distant. 

Come back… COME BACK!

Jay jerks open his eyes, bathed in familiar darkness once more. His cheek, pressed against the warm stone beside him, drips wet with condensation. Dark eyes scan the room he’s camped in, taking in the familiar points of stalactites overhead. Little glowworms dot the ceiling, mimicking the night sky. He’s alone down here, as he has been for the past several years.    

The smell of spice is gone. Even his mother’s smell, one he so desperately longed for, faded from memory by now. All that remains in his mind is the thick choking plume of smoke, the sourness of rotting dead bodies stinking up his nostrils. The iron stench of blood splattered on the floor. 

Heaviness cramps his chest. Tears sting his eyes and he grimaces. Don’t cry for the dead. Jay clenches his jaw, shaking his head to clear the intruding memories. That life was gone a long time ago.

Home.

Home was with her… and now she was gone. All that he could call home was the depths of the dungeon below.