She had been one of the first to leave the desert, all those years ago. It seemed a distant memory now; that long, arduous path, the Ache in her chest that pulled her onwards no matter how tired her hooves. And throughout the journey, she had sung. And to this day, her voice still rang clear.
It was when she sang that those distant memories became fresh, weaving an image in the minds of those who remembered and those who knew only the swamp. Those generations of Acha that had been born far from the desert, who couldn’t truly understand but their blood still stirred when she sang of the drifting sands and the endless sky.
The swamp was where she lived but it wasn’t really her home. That would always be where she had begun. In the swamp, she had her friends and family. She had Red-Stained Blossom and the troupe (though she was a rather transient member), her darling Cuddles and connections she had forged.
But she would always miss the desert, and it had taken a long time to accept that she would never go back. To be comfortable with the lump in her chest when she sang of what once was.
And then the Obelisks arrived.
She could go back.
She could go home.
But she didn’t.
Because Sing You Home was afraid. She was scared that if she left the Swamp, she would never want to return. That the constant ache of having left her home behind would consume her when she once again had to leave.
And so time turned and much stayed the same but a dissatisfaction had grown in her heart and one day she heard, through the constant gossipy chatter of the troupe, that the obelisks were connected now.
She could go back (again).
Not forever but the way was open. Though she would have to traverse some strange path to reach it. Of course, Watch Me left immediately and took the troupe with him, fearless and perhaps somewhat foolish but she admired him. He knew what he wanted and he wasn’t scared to reach for it, no matter the price.
And left behind once more, she began to feel wrong.
When she sang, her voice cracked and her words rang hollow. The image of the desert that had been so clear was slowly beginning to fade. The panic that this filled her with was enough to carry her to where the obelisk stood, menacing and tall. A gateway to a far off place. To home. If only she was brave enough.
And she wouldn’t have been.
If not for something else, a different ache. A story she’d heard, of strange changes, of a crystal that offered a form her heart desired, to blossom anew. And that ache, that pull, had led her to the base of the obelisk and called her beyond.
And she stepped within.
.
.
.
.
Sing You Home found the desert much as she’d left it - hot, sandy and perfect.
She wept as she walked, for her hooves wouldn’t stop leading her in a mysterious direction. Past the crowd that had gathered, travellers who made regular use of the boon the obelisk gave them and the various kin who made use of that too, to offer their services as guides or hoping to see family.
There was nobody she knew, so she kept going out into the great expanse. At first she had to adjust her stride but it came naturally to her, the steps required to navigate the shifting sands. It felt so different from the swamp.
The sky was so very blue and the horizon stretched far, far away.
A song bubbled up in her throat but when she opened her mouth, it wouldn’t emerge. It wasn’t time yet.
That pull carried her to a distant shadow that slowly formed into a lush oasis. She stepped gratefully into its embrace, beneath the cooling shade the palm leaves provided, towards the water that bubbled up from a deep spring. Still she walked, lapping at the water, stealing small swallows, unable to stop despite her exhaustion.
A small cave that the waters had carved, the entrance just big enough for her squeeze through, was where she found it. The promised crystal. It was real.
She stood in the cool damp confines with the water up her chest, the glow of the crystal softly reassuring, promising that everything would be alright. It soothed her.
And when she backed away and waded slowly to shore, she finally let herself rest. The sunlight lay dapples across her green back and the heat of the desert was just a memory as she drifted away into slumber.
In her dreams, the crystal was all around, a great cavern of possibilities. Sing You Home marvelled as she saw herself differently. So many ways, so many forms. She saw herself as a Kimeti, finally attuned to the swamp and she saw herself as an Acha still but with the desert etched to her side, her colours changed to rich browns and golds.
But the one that truly called to her was of the oasis she now rested. Of water and green, of flowers and palms, of that safe place so rare in the desert, that welcomed weary travelers and then bid them farewell with their bellies and hearts full. She too wished to be the oasis. But she would be an oasis in the swamp, where her own kind could stop at and she would give them her song. She would offer them a taste of home and they would be renewed, ready to continue their journey. In being changed that way, she would also be her own home, never homesick, for she would carry the desert with her forever.
In her fear and longing, she’d forgotten the purpose that had given her hope long, long ago when the Ache first came calling. It was time to let that all go.
It was this mirror she stepped through.
And she woke changed, different, whole.
And the Ache had returned.
But it didn’t matter now.
She sang her way home.