It was becoming colder again. This season was a dangerous one for a mare such as Avangeline, a mare who was alone, who avoided the safety and security of a herd, and who wandered by herself through one of the busiest islands of the five. Her days were spent tucked away in the thick trees that separated the clearings which most horses seemed to have decided long ago would be meeting grounds. Closer yet, she stuck to the Falls, a place she’d come to learn was the safest area of any. The masculine-thick Lagoon, she avoided. Avangeline even stayed distant from the towering Vulcan peak.
By herself she wandered, only occasionally bumping into a stranger or two and sharing a conversation, but somehow there always seemed to be a reason they parted ways. There were many kind-spoken excuses that came from her tongue but, ultimately, she knew the truth.
She knew it, because any stallion painted dark without a blemish of white on his body immediately drew her attention. Her breath would catch hard, her lungs would ache, and then she’d see it was no one but a stranger. Guilt trailed her, believing it was her fault they’d become separated; she’d been the one to sneak off to Luthien, after all. It had been shortly after the fateful, horrible day where she’d accidentally incurred the wrath of a red mare who’d loathed her. Surely, Al-Hattaal assumed she had fled him.
If only she could tell him that wasn’t the case.
But shouldn’t it be? He’d said in his home, his breed was not fond of hers. He’d been attacked for being her friend. Time had passed, time enough to think and reflect, maybe he’d remembered that he, too, hated Akhal-Teke’s. Maybe he realized the trouble she’d caused and how little she was worth.
Or maybe he’d found his sister. That was a kinder thought and less mean on herself, so Avangeline enjoyed envisioning it. She liked to think of Al-Hattaal’s relief to find her, of how he’d smiled. She knew nothing of his sister, but assumed the mare must be just as kind as Al-Hattaal, and just as devoted to her brother; Avangeline liked to imagine they’d both been ecstatic at being reunited. It hurt less to think of him happy, to think that he didn’t loathe her for all the reasons she could never begin to explain or understand.
Avangeline sighed quietly to herself, a wide empty space around her meaning that no one was there to hear it, look at her, and wonder what could trouble the sweet-natured girl. With no one around, there’d been no one to realize how sad she’d become. All Avangeline had these days were the unanswered prayers to her goddess, of whom she spoke with frequently.
Her gaze reached from the trees and into the clearing of the Falls, looking out onto the clearing at any who grazed, talked, or sought cool refreshments from the stream.
She swore her very heart stopped in her chest; eyes wide; lips broken apart. It couldn’t be. It couldn’t be, but it was. Yards from her, drinking from the stream, was Al-Hattaal. She nearly was moved to tears, her happiness was so overpowering; she nearly bellowed a whinny of joy and lunged into the clearing to charge for him, to laugh and say how thankful she was to see him again. But as soon as her breath drew sharply in – as soon as a wide smile split across her lips and one slender leg picked up to move forward, she froze.
What if he did not want to see her?
The thought was enough to extinguish what joy she’d briefly felt. The smile fell, as did her slender neck, her tail head, and the hoof which had been raised. She watched him, moping, dreaming he might look her way and see her in the trees and be overcome with happiness that would show her he truly did miss her and wanted to see her again.
Fool, she thought of herself. Let him be. Let him live on, not knowing a thing about you. You’re trouble for him, that’s all you are. A burden.
But no matter how cruel (and possibly realistic) her thoughts were, Avangeline’s heart screamed opposition. She’d always been a girl to follow her heart over her head, so after a brief mental back-and-forth, there was no stopping her.
“Al-Hattaal!” She cried out, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes (though whether they were happiness or fear that he would scorn her were not yet known) as she charged from the trees, chest heaving with her breath and eyes bright. The sun bore witness to the gleam of her coat and she wasted no time to trot the clearing in order to reach him, stopping just short of his personal space, though she wanted nothing more than to crash against that black coat and weep with relief against his skin.
“I’ve…” her voice quieted, momentary burst of courage lost. Her eyes searched him, just on the verge of heartbreak that he had absolute power of. “I’ve missed you so much.”
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