Evren lets out an exhale of relief at Persephone’s suggestion. Waves of shivers are still rippling down her soaked body, try as she might to suppress them.
“Please do,” she replies, and allows the leader of the forest to lead her further into the depths of the trees. Though all but the evergreens are bare this time of year, the closeness of the forest does help block out the wind some, and the walk warms Evren’s blood. Soon her shivers stop, though the bite of the air is still uncomfortable.
Evren listens as Persephone talks, and a sympathetic frown tugs at her lips. The thought of Persephone here alone - or near enough - gives her a queer feeling in her belly. She knows what it is like lose your loved ones, and to have no friendly faces to turn to. She wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
For just a moment, she thinks of the child she left behind, before guilt pulls her immediately away again.
“That’s a real shame,” Evren says, meeting Persephone’s eyes and reluctantly matching her smile. At least her companion seems to have a positive outlook on her situation. Evren finds that admirable; it’s something she tries her best to emulate.
Evren lets out a sheepish laugh when it’s her turn to talk. “God, where do I start?
“To keep it short and sweet, I lost a lot. Most of my family, in truth. Even a newborn foal. It was too much; I needed to get away from that place. The desert, I mean. I went looking for my mother in the hopes she had settled somewhere else, but I never found her.”
Evren sighs, but her voice is controlled, strong. Time has given her the ability to speak about that horrible time without wanting to break down in tears.
“I stayed with a herd for a while, but things got… complicated. I ended up pregnant. When things got really bad, I took my kid and got the hell out of there. I wanted a better life for him, you know?”
Evren stands stock still and lifts her head to look at Persephone directly. She hesitates; her expression is troubled. “Sephy… Can I tell you something? I think I did a bad thing. I couldn’t face going back home; there were too many bad memories. So at the last second I changed course and came here, to you. But my kid… I sprung it on him. And he has some… issues. He couldn’t cope. So he went to the desert without me.”
She averts her gaze, staring at the dead leaves on the ground. Her throat is tight; her control over her emotions suddenly wavering.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to dump all this on you. I just… kind of realized what an irresponsible mother I’ve been. I’ve got a one-year-old waiting for me on another island, alone. If he even made it there safely.”
Her cheeks burn with anger at herself.
7; mutt; bay tobiano; 15.3hh
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