Zoraiz and the Whisper of the Fields

Click HERE to read Episode 1.

The summer days begin to stretch longer, as if the sun, too, were reluctant to leave the sky. The fields lazily bent at its heat, and Zoraiz’s world was the same goats, sheep, and Sarmad’s silent company. Still, something within him was evolving.

He could not put it into words properly; it was a sort of muted vibration beneath the ground, some intangible but gut-well-known thing. Each morning, when he went out, he felt that the air was keeping some mystery just out of grasp for him.

Sarmad felt it too.

The horse had become agitated these recent weeks, often raising his head sharply as if catching sounds Zoraiz couldn’t hear. His calm eyes had begun to glimmer with strange alertness, a kind of anticipation, as if he waited for something to come.

One evening, when the sun tilted west and the valley shone like a living candle, Zoraiz led out Sarmad for a routine ride. The wind carried the scent of wet soil; distant clouds promised rain. Birds darted across the fields, their wings slicing through the orange light.

Zoraiz ran his hand along Sarmad’s neck. “You’ve been quiet lately,” he murmured. “More than me, I mean.”

Sarmad breathed gently, his ears pinned back.The rhythm of his hooves echoed across the land, steady and sure. But when they passed the ridge above the old stream, Sarmad suddenly stopped. His body tensed.

“What is it, boy?”

Sarmad eyes were fixed on the horizon. There, far beyond the fields, a thin line of mist was rising, not ordinary fog, but a pale, silver shimmer that seemed to pulse like breath. It moved strangely, almost deliberately, winding through the valley as if it carried its own will.

Zoraiz frowned. “It looks like river mist,” he breathed, but there was little confidence behind the statement.

They stood there observing until the glow died, consumed by the deepening dark air. But the sense it left behind remained a tug, silent but undeniable, like a sentence left open-ended.

That evening, Zoraiz couldn't sleep.He lay awake, listening to the wind whisper against the windows. Every now and then, he heard Sarmad shift in his stable, hooves tapping softly against the ground. As if both of them waited for something nameless.

He got up at dawn and stepped out of doors. The air was biting and fresh, dense with quiet. He saw Sarmad already up, ears EMCdp towards the east.

“Are you hearing it too?” Zoraiz asked, half-in-ering, half

At that moment, Sarmad glanced aside, and yet, however light reflected off his eyes, Zoraiz swore they glinted like mirrors of some other world.

He smiled uneasily. “You know, sometimes I think you understand more than I do.”

That morning, he went about his work tending the animals, drawing water, and patching the worn fence, but what was left of his imagination worried at what he had seen in the valley, wondering if it had been sunlight or tired eyes.

But when the evening fell once more, and the golden light fell gently over the paddy, he was putting on saddles for Sarmad all over again.

Let’s go, he said quietly. “Maybe there’s something we’re supposed to see.”

Sarmad didn’t hesitate.

They travelled silently, slashing through high grass, pursuing that same breeze which had borne that mysterious light the previous day. The valley below seemed mundane with recognizable trees, the chattering stream, and the gentle movement of crops. And when they crossed the crest of the hill, Zoraiz sensed it – a thrumming across the ground, faint but actual, humming beneath the hooves of Sarmad.

He got off, dropping on one knee to contact the ground. The soil was warm, but the air had chilled. For a moment, he believed he heard something – not a noise, but a sense. A deep, distant humming, like the ground was exhaling.

Zoraiz gazed out at the disappearing horizon. “Sarmad,” he breathed, “suppose the world’s been trying to talk to us all along, and yet we never knew how to listen?”

The horse breathed out, a deep, gentle sound that almost had been an answer.

As darkness spread all over the sky, the stars started glittering above them, here and there. Zoraiz was quiet next to Sarmad, observing the stars flowing over the blackness. For the first time in years, he did not feel lonely. He was drawn. Something was starting quietly, like dawn holding back behind hills.

To be continued…

This isn’t the end. The next chapter is just around the corner. In the meantime, I’d love to hear your thoughts. What did you enjoy? Where can I improve? Your feedback really helps me grow.

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