Sylvia’s words were a balm to his heart, for all he’d ever wanted was to be a good parent, and even though none of the foals he’d raised had ever turned their lack of blood-relations against him, he still had moments where he feared he was not enough for the children. To be included rather than held at a distance —and so trustingly, too, for despite how comfortable the two golden horses were together they had only met twice— in regards to Sylvia’s new foal lifted his spirits a notch higher than they had been a moment ago. He felt better everyday, much more like himself than he had been between Yusuf’s disappearance and Dia’s permanent presence after her initial arrival.

But her next words sobered him before he could soar too high and away from their conversation. Her touch against his neck was not unwelcome but it was odd, for they’d only exchanged light touches and flirting banter. And if Midas was her “one true love,” as she said, he found it difficult to believe she would not want to return to his side and live near him. There was nothing wrong with that mindset, and in fact it was expected, which was why he was surprised to hear her say she’d rather stay at his side. Şahin had nothing to offer her, not on the emotional level of Midas anyway, other than a home and safety. Maybe that was why she had said those things. Şahin had been a fairly permanent fixture on the Islands since his return and Midas had gone off somewhere with no fixed point in time of return. It was possible the stability Şahin represented was attractive to Sylvia, so much so that she would follow her head rather than her heart if Midas did end up returning.

This was all conjecture, and his assumptions were neither important nor accurate, probably. He tipped one ear toward the mare and continued to stare out across the water as she spoke again. “I have not,” he responded. “I have loved, and passionately, but never to the point where I would put my life on hold on the off-chance another horse might come back to me. I found fulfillment in my own life, and found that my lovers added to the quality of it rather than... became the thing that made my life worth living. I think it’s healthy to love more than once, if the opportunity arises. Horses fall in and out of love all the time— you’ve got a rare thing with your Midas, if he returns your affections as strongly as you do.”

He flicked his tail, then snorted softly. “That being said, a horse can’t stifle their emotions for the sake of another for too long. If they spend their life waiting for that special one to return their affections, or to return from a journey —many of my lovers have left my herd or, in some cases, convinced me to leave my home and go journeying with them— if a horse waits like that, it’ll kill them from the inside out. It may take years but it happens. I’ve seen horses in the throes of heartbreak that they’ve been nursing for a decade, and it’s... it’s very sad to see someone in that state. Just because you love someone does not mean that love will last forever, nor does it necessarily mean it will fade,” his voice grew more passionate, “but to spend your entire life putting aside your own opportunity for growth and happiness just because you might have a chance with another— it’s insane. I couldn’t do it, and I would never expect that kind of behavior from anyone towards me. I try to discourage it when I see it because it’s dangerous. If I can get through to the mares or stallions who are pining after someone who may not be the healthiest option for them, I do my best to plant the seed for them to think about their own life, and what they want to do with it that does not involve the horse they claim to love. Ah, listen to me,” he said with a low laugh. He shuddered his skin as if dislodging flies and turned a grin on the mare. “Didn’t mean to sound like I’m lecturing. And not that I’m trying to butt into your life in any way— I know I have a different set of values than many I’ve met here. I personally just can’t see myself waiting for another horse as you’ve described. Maybe that is my loss,” he said, thoughtfully. “Maybe I have never loved another horse as intensely as you have.”

Maybe he hadn’t. Şahin didn’t like to set restrictions on others, either by forcing them to come live in his herd or stay there against their will, or apparently by loving too hard. He’d always thought of himself as free-spirited and driven by the wind, but now he wondered if the love he’d felt for others had been purposely shallow to avoid the kind of heartbreak he had just described.

“Excuse me,” he said, and turned to leave. He would walk the beach and think, for a time. “Oh, and Sylvia— the herd usually gathers inland a bit, where the pools are more frequent. I’ll see you later,” he said, and with a brief nod in her direction he strode down the slope and headed for the solace he knew waited for him in the sands. Introspection, at times, could be a very valuable thing. Şahin needed it now.