Somewhere in England, a feral stallion waddles aimlessly through the woods.
He’s an earthie stallion. Dark grey fluff, greenish-grey mane and tail, blue eyes.
He’s in a bit of a pickle right now. He wandered too far from his herd’s nest while searching for food, and got lost on the way back.
That was a few days ago.
Now he’s just wandering in random directions, hoping he’ll somehow find his way home.
Unfortunately, he’s only managed to go further and further away from the nest.
It’s not like he has a map.
As the stallion looks around, he almost bumps into something.
It looks like an ancient sword, impaled in the ground, plants growing all over it. Through the overgrowth, symbols can be seen engraved upon the rusty blade, but even if the stallion could read, he wouldn’t be able to make heads or tails of it.
When the stallion looks down, it becomes apparent that he’s standing on what appears to be a grave, the sword evidently serving as a makeshift grave marker. The grave is under the branches of a big tree, and covered in overgrowth like the sword.
The stallion doesn’t really understand the significance of it. He doesn’t realise that he’s standing on top of a dead person.
But as the stallion turns to waddle away, there’s a glimmer of golden light, and a voice echoes from the ancient sword.
“Leaving so soon?”
It sounds deep, and masculine.
The stallion looks around.
“Hu sed dat? A munstah? Cuz fwuffy nu am scawedies of munstah. Whewe am yu?”
The unseen voice chuckles.
“I am no monster. And you’re standing on me, so to speak. I am, ah, a bit immaterial. My body is long dead, but my soul is still bound to it. I have unfinished business in this world, you see. And I’ve been waiting a VERY long time for someone who can hear me to come this way.”
The stallion looks at the sword.
“Hu am yu? Du yu… du yu haf a namesie? Cuz fwuffy nu haf wun.”
“I am a warrior whose name has been forgotten. Even I can’t quite remember it at the moment. But I still remember what binds me to this world. There is someone out there who I must meet. Someone who must be… tested. And if they’re worthy… they must be TAUGHT.”
The stallion shrugs.
“Otay, but whewe du fwuffy come intu dis?”
The voice hesitates before it replies.
“Well, er… I am going to need some help seeking that certain someone out. I will require… a vessel. And YOU are, unfortunately, the only vessel available.”
“Wut… wut am a vess-uw?”
“In simple terms, I… I need to borrow your body.”
The stallion stares blankly at the sword.
“Yu nee tu wut.”
The voice repeats its request in a slower and somewhat patronising tone.
“I need to borrow your BODY, is what I said. I have no way of bringing the person I need to meet here, so I have to go seek them out myself. But my spirit is bound to my grave, and only by possessing a consenting host can I travel elsewhere.”
“An how faw away am dat sumwun?”
“Across the ocean, at the very least.”
At this point, a glaring flaw in the voice’s plan becomes apparent to the stallion.
“Um… mistah nu-namesie…”
“Yes?”
“A osh-un haf wots an wots of wawas, wite?”
“I’m assuming you mean water, and yes. What is your point?”
“Fwuffy point am dat fwuffies an wawas nu weawwy gu weww tugeba. Wawas am bad fow fwuffies. Mebbeh yu shud wait fow sumwun hu can swim.”
“But it could take CENTURIES before someone else who can hear me stumbles across my grave. This might be my only chance to finish my unfinished business. Please, will you help me?”
The stallion thinks about it.
He considers asking for something in return, but it doesn’t seem like the voice has much to give.
However, fluffies are a species that tends to be inherently benevolent. For many fluffies, it’s second nature to want to help someone in trouble.
Even if the only help they can offer is hugs.
As you may have seen, that has backfired on many fluffies, sometimes literally.
Fluffies tend to be a wee bit flammable, after all.
But the stallion has a hunch that the voice can be trusted.
Before he makes his decision, he has one more question to ask.
“Su if fwuffy wet yu bowwoh fwuffy bodee, wut am yu gunna du wif it?”
“Seek out the one I must find, of course. This will be a mutually beneficial arrangement, you know. In life, I was very mighty. Of course, without a physical body, might is meaningless. However, if you agree to share your body with me… I can share some of my power with YOU. The road ahead will be fraught with danger, but if we work together, we can overcome ANY danger, with wisdom, power, and courage.”
Finally, the stallion gives his answer.
“Otay, fwuffy wiww hewp yu. But wen yu am dun wif fwuffy, yu gutta hewp fwuffy git back to fwuffy hewd.”
“I cannot make any promises. Once my business in this realm is concluded, I do not know how much longer my spirit will remain. But I can say that I will try. So do we have a deal?”
“Yus. We haf a deaw.”
The source of the voice rises up from the grave, and the stallion steps back, looking up at the spirit.
It looks like a weathered skeleton, clad in ancient golden armor. While the left eye socket is empty, a pale burning blue light burns in the right eye socket. Strapped to the spiritual warrior’s back is a ghostly replica of the sword that marks his grave, in much better condition than the real sword.
In moments, the forest is full of fog so thick it blocks out the sun, and the stallion shivers, feeling the temperature drop.
The spirit kneels down, reaching towards the stallion with a translucent, skeletal hand.
“Let us begin the process of spiritual binding.”
“Da pwoh-sess of wut–”
He gently touches the stallion’s forehead with a bony hand.
FLASH
Then, there’s a flash of an eerie pale golden light.
As the light fades, so does the fog, and it becomes apparent that the stallion’s body has undergone a few changes.
His fluff is now a dark golden hue, his mane and tail both white. His body glows with that pale golden light.
While his right eye is glowing pure pale blue, his left eye is closed, and seems to be unable to open.
However, this apparently doesn’t impair his vision.
He speaks, his voice now having a faint echo to it.
“Mistah nu-namesie? Am yu stiww dewe?”
The forgotten one replies in the stallion’s mind.
“I am here, yes. Do you feel it, friend? Do you feel my power flowing through you?”
“Fwuffy du feew stwong-uw, yuh.”
“Not only stronger. Your body has become more resilient, faster, more agile. Like this, you will be able to see the world through the eyes of a spirit. Or eye, rather.”
“Wut happund tu yu see-pwace, aneeway?”
“I lost it in battle. Of course, being dead, that’s hardly an issue for me anymore. You may need some time to acclimate to your new abilities. Do you mind if I take the reins? Let me show you what you’re capable of now.”
The stallion shrugs, handing over control to the spirit.
Once at the wheel, the spirit runs away from his grave, far faster than any ordinary fluffy can waddle, prowling like a wolf.
And the spirit speaks through the stallion’s mouth, sounding pleased.
“Yes, I think we can make this work.”
The stallion chimes in mentally, since he’s now riding shotgun.
“Su whewe am we guin, ess-ack-wee?”
The spirit chuckles again.
“We must find our way west. To that unknown land across the waves. The one I seek lives there, I can feel it.”
“Du yu eben knu hu yu am wookin fow, mistah nu-namesie?”
“I know his name, friend. And I think you know him, by a different name. Now that we are bound, I can see your memories. You’ve heard stories about him. So it seems that many of your kind know of the one I seek.”
“Wait, am yu tawk-in abowt da Bestest Hoomin? DAT am hu yu am wookin fow?”
The spirit nods.
“Yes. The one called Calvin Korkea. There are things he must know.”
