Falls

It did not occur to El Aran that there was a third answer to the question she posed. Her ears tipped back at the dark chestnut mare’s response, not in anger or irritation but utter bafflement. She stretched her slightly dished head toward the other mare and flicked her ears forward. "They would punish you," she said slowly, without menace. "Your behavior would be construed as blasphemy, for the freedom you speak of would put you on equal footing with the Gods."

She thought back to the stallion on the beach, the one who wore a bloodmarked coat like the High Seer’s. Her attitude toward him had been only slightly deferential, but she had spoken to him as an equal. If he had been one of the Gods come to the Isles, surely then she must be punished for her impudence. The mare in front of her spoke of the freedom to live her life as she saw fit, and hadn’t El Aran been affecting that same attitude earlier, speaking to a horse who might have been a God as if she had any right to address him with familiarity?

El Aran pulled her head back and snorted. It was too late to change her actions: whatever punishment the Gods saw fit to deliver was not something she could either prepare for or prevent. She tucked her chin in near her chest and offered a silent apology to her deities, not in the hopes that they would take pity on her and grant a reprieve, but to convey with utmost sincerity that she understood she had committed an offense.

Her eyes were closed as she prayed —it took less than two breaths— and she blinked them open when the other mare introduced herself. "I am El Aran," she replied. "How can you say you would deny the Gods your company? They are all-powerful, almighty. They could kill you with a breath." The seer was a little awed at Taytim’s confidence in the hypothetical situation she proposed— she could not name any other horse who would tell a God “no” and be unafraid of the consequences.