Ikari spent most of him time in the Forest and socializing on Luthien or in the lands of his allies when he was a lead stallion on the Islands. It surprised him to hear Black Heart Machine had been a friend of Corinth’s— or, rather, it surprised him that his fierce Arabian friend had never spoken of her. Corinth had always been a fairly private mare. Their conversations were often about things bigger than themselves and focused on how to change the world. Ikari did not begrudge her her privacy. He was sorry to have met Black Heart Machine so late in his life, however.
“All the mares I have met from the Peak have been leaders,” he said musingly. “There is something about this mountain that encourages one to display their power and grace, I think.” His brow furrowed, and he wondered if mares hid it when living elsewhere in a more traditional herd. He wondered, too, if he had ever caused a mare to feel as if she must hide her true self when in his presence.
As he mused, he was aware of Impazienza’s attentive stance beside him. Her grief had subsided somewhat, it seemed, and she seemed to have taken in Black Heart Machine’s words the way parched earth soaked up water. There was some internal politicking at play, he was sure, but Ikari was not interested enough to try to untangle it. Nor was it his place to wonder too much about the inner workings of the Peak, or the private lives of the mares who lived there.
“Nor I,” he breathed in quiet reply to Black Heart Machine’s next statement, although he did not mean the rain or whatever else her comment encompassed. He was old, and tired— tired physically and suddenly weary of weight of his own emotions. It will pass, he told himself confidently. He had never been bowed for long by grief or his other stresses. “It will pass,” he said, as if verbalizing the thought would make it happen faster.
His granddaughter shifted beside him and pressed her wet nose against his shoulder. “It will,” she agreed. “Stay for awhile, grandsire, until the rain ends. Black Heart Machine? I think you and I should talk. But later, just— in a bit. Please.”
Ikari wondered if Impazienza’s grief was as apparent to the other mare as it was to him. She fell silent and grew still beside him. The mahogany bay leaned into her to offer support, but his head swung back to the dark, lithe mare at his other side. He spoke then, of Corinth and her flitting visits to his home and the power of the mare he called his friend and hoped his stories would grant Impazienza some reprieve from her mourning while also inviting Black Heart Machine to share her own memories of their mutual friend.
It seemed the right kind of day for reminiscing.
ikari; stallion; twenty-one springs; shire; 18 hh; mahogany bay; nomad of the crossing |