face down in the desert now
there’s a cage locked around my heart
And so it was that Dances found himself being pushed onto the shores of the Bay for the second time in days, with even less brightness in him than on that first arrival. He was physically worn out, and not just from the journey to Luthien and back. He felt shaken to his core, and it seemed nothing in life could be certain any more. Everything had been turned upside down, and the boy-stallion felt as though he was about to come apart at the seams with the next rough wave. Jökulrós had given him enough hope for a return journey, but he was down to his dregs by the time he made his way up the beach – just far enough so the waves no longer tried to pull him back into the dreaded sea.
Dances desperately hoped that Nephilim had gotten home alright. The sun had been sinking by the time he’d found the will to make it to Salem, so he had lingered alone on the beach last night, too afraid to seek shelter too far from the coast lest he stumble upon another situation like the one in the Prairie – one that he’d have to face without Nephilim at his side. It had been hard enough the first time… Dances would be the first to admit that he was a coward, afraid of so much…
A deep breath, eyes closed. He needed to be strong. After a minute the painted boy gave up trying to muster boldness. One thing he didn’t have to fear was Nephilim. The pale spotted stallion had so kindly offered him shelter, and then when Dances had turned up announced, he hadn’t abandoned him. He could still hear Nephilim calling his name as he turned to lead him from the Prairie and all the hostility that lingered there. Another had called his name too, calling him back. But Nephilim was already going, and it was Nephilim that Dances chose to follow. Keeping up was another matter entirely, and he had hesitated before the ocean, which would perhaps always be his greatest enemy. It had taken him time to come back, and Dances could not help but worry. Was Nephilim okay? Did he think that maybe Dances had left him too, when he hadn't returned yesterday?
No, Nephilim wouldn’t think that. He had turned back, called for Dances to follow.
It was more than Guadalupe had done, when she had left for Luthien. There had been no turning back then, no last goodbye. No ‘come with me, my son.’ With a snort, Dances With Wolves shook his coat, as if trying to expel the memories and his sorrow along with the salt water that prickled his skin. Turning back an ear, Dances hesitated a moment. He wanted to be strong and confident when Nephilim came to meet him, not the mess that he was. How could he help anyone else when he couldn’t even help himself? Feeling a sob rise in his chest, the bay and white boy let out an uncertain bugle, letting his presence be known. It seemed that it hurt the worst when he was alone – he was still grateful for the company of the golden filly from the forest. Sad blue eyes scanned the beach, catching sight of figures in the distance. He wondered if Nephilim was near the cave where he’d allowed Dances to rest that first night.
Already his woes seemed less. Each moment that passed meant that Nephilim was that much closer, and Dances found that he was already longing for the company of the slightly older male, and wondered about the strange bond that had formed between them, somewhere on their journey to Luthien and back…
i found a way to drop the keys where my failures were
Dances With Wolves |