A/N: This story is continuing 'Remembrance'. If you are new to the story, you don't have to worry about the previous installations. Reading this first will add more mystery to it, I suppose. But if you have the time, go ahead and check out 'Of the Sand and the Sea' and 'Remembrance' to get the full story.

This first chapter is more of an introduction, so it isn't long, but the coming chapters will be longer.

Just a warning: The rating may go up in later chapters.

~ Part 1 ~

Introductory – Surreality

~.~.~

He could hear another heart beating. He stopped, listened. He turned toward the source. For so long he'd been searching the grassy plains, where nothing but he and the wind wandered. Now he finally found, or rather stumbled upon, what he was looking for.

It was a shy and timid creature, yet still wild and free. It would come and go like the wind, or like the waves on the sand.

He wanted to be closer to it, to reach out and stroke its neck. But he dared not move. He did not want to frighten it away. It was restless; trotting in circles like it was unsure what to do or where to go.

It snorted and stomped with frustration. Now they both stood still and stared. His gaze was calm but his heart beat anxiously.

"Please don't run away," he mouthed and it looked at him with wide eyes. He feared it would leave. He wanted to lunge forward and make it stay. But he dared not. That would certainly make it flee, whether in fear or playful glee he'd never know. It used to be one and then the other, flipping its emotions like a coin.

It was frozen like a statue and it wasn't running away. Not running away was good, but he wanted it to come closer.

Slowly, so very slowly, he held out his hand. "Come here," he whispered.

The creature suddenly startled. He watched helplessly as it darted away, running and leaping over tall grass. Then it was gone. It disappeared like mist in the wind.

He stood immobile, hand still outstretched and seeking. He stared out to the horizon, squinting his eyes against the harsh sunlight. Slowly he let his hand fall to his side. Gone… again. Just when it seemed it would get close, it vanished. There was a time when its hazel eyes were gentle with trust instead of rigid with terror. He wondered if he'd ever see that look again. He tried to summon its image to his mind, but it was fleeting and blurred. It was a reflection disturbed by ripples. It was stolen away from him first by the ghost mist and then by the river and now, he feared, by his own mind.

He began his search once again, just he and the wind disturbing the sunbathed prairie. He looked for signs of its cloven hooves in the dirt, looked for the crumpled blades of grass that it ran through. He found neither. It had vanished like the ghost it carried within. But no matter how difficult he would continue on. He could not stop, for stopping would mean giving up and giving up would mean death.

And that was something he could not accept.