I heard hoofsteps from my perked ears. If I sat still, I knew that I would be free soon.
My eyes blinked, but did not stray towards the hoofsteps. They were fixed at the blowing grass from outside my prison. I imagined that I was sitting on the hillside, staring at the setting sun. I urged my hooves to move, but my eyes were the only ones that obeyed me.
My ears heard nothing but screechy cries.
“Is she getting any better?”
“She’s making progress, but it is still dangerous to perform such an operation on her.”
The sounds grew louder. I wanted to cover my ears, but I forced myself to stay still. My eyes blinked instead. They wanted to escape into the grassland before me. I wanted to follow them.
The barred window seemed to disappear. The simple cell with a bookcase full of disgusting, blinding pictures stared at me from the corner of my eyes. Their demonic eyes surrounded me, as they did in those foreboding paintings. Their fangs were unsheathed from their lips, ready to strike me down in my helpless state.
“But she is getting better, right?”
“Slowly. If we’re lucky, we’ll know if magical treatment is a viable option.”
The roars stopped for a moment. I felt one of the monster’s dull talons stroke playfully at my coat, as if to feel for any arteries for them to slash and have me die without making so much noise.
“She still looks beautiful. Are you sure that there’s —how do I put this— is she still in there?”
“I’ve told you again and again, agnosia affects only the senses. She’ll still remember you when we’ve treated her.”
The monster retracted its talons and circled around me. Drool dribbled down its mouth, nose, and eyes. It let out a subdued shriek, as if chanting a prayer. A twisted smile grew from underneath their lips.
“You said that her hearing and sight have been warped by agnosia? I wonder what I look like to her.
“I wonder if she still remembers how beautiful she is in those pictures.”
The creature sounded solemn. Whenever the creature let out a low hiss, I knew that I was spared. I could live for another week. I could dream of escaping this torturous dungeon surrounded by those large-taloned monsters. But until their leader realized that I was not a fitting meal for his wide fangs, I was still. There was time to escape when the cave was empty.
“I think she still recognizes you.”
“How do you know?”
“Whenever you’re around, she seems so calm. But when you’re not here, she tries to escape.”
Another silence. I would be out of the leader’s sight soon.
“She only recognizes me as the one that can’t help her. I just wish that my words still reached her, just like when we stared at the hillside at this time of day.”
This was really eerie and left me with a lot of questions. No doubt that was your intention since the narrator is fairly unreliable in her addled state. What surgery did she undergo? Will she ever recover? Very interesting. Well done!