Too much. All of it was too much, too fast, too close. Everything was becoming too close to her heart, and that was bad. This wasn’t a mare that got attached easily, and look where she was at. A Lagoon man had made his way under her right hand, had become a friend. Anath couldn’t personally remember the last time she’d even
had a friend. Those had been days a long, long time ago where she walked at the shoulder of a black mare and listened to her stories. Those had been the days where a thick black and white draft woman had taught her what she needed to know. Those had been the days when everything was right with the world and Corinth hung the moon.
Those had been the days.
And they were gone now. The ghosts were starting to ooze from the story books and return to dance around her head. Some days when she stood with Impa those ghosts would play ugly tricks, would create a simple appliqué and lay it over the half blind, blanketed creature. The ghosts would bring her Heart back to life and allow her to walk in silence. Always in silence, for maybe Anath was starting to allow the voice of her love to slip through her fingers. Maybe she had begun to forget the dramatic way Corinth’s voice would dip and flow as she told stories. Maybe she had already lost some of the words of one beloved uncle or another.
Yet she never forgot a name. She would always hold onto a name and a face if she could touch one. She would remember who her brother’s stories about a few great giants that had one lived on the forested island that had been his childhood. She would always remember a man that had helped that one of her uncles before things had fallen apart. Forgetting would be losing to age, and that just couldn’t happen.
The mare makes her way across the Peak on fleet feet. She had been on the other side watching the ocean from a ledge that had been
their spot not so long ago. With the direction of the wind she had caught the scent of a woman she’d simply been dying to see. Vocha was back, it looked. A part of Corinth she could hold.
But as the mare came into view, so did a man. Anath was not far from them, watching with wide eyes. A man stood with the mare, one who was looking a bit worse for wear. She was able to catch the tail end of what the other mare was saying and all the breath was taken from her lungs. Her voice was shaking, but clear all at once as she spoke.
”Ikari. Formerly of the Frightful Forest.” The champagne mare had heard everything from her younger brother that she would need to know about the stallion. All the same, she couldn’t be too frozen—it was with clumsy steps that she moved to Vocha, pressing her nose to the mare’s shoulder. It was all Anath could do to make sure she was real, she was solid.
ANATH
HEROES GET REMEMBERED
LEGENDS NEVER DIE