It is Božena who pulls away first, reminding him that he is breaking the conventions of his people by being so forward with her. At this point, he hardly cares. His people are gone. All but… her. Kune searches her face, his gaze following the tears streaking down her cheeks. He absorbs her words, her voice, like a sponge, letting the familiar cadence of his mother tongue - that thing he had once thought he’d never hear again from another - fill him and warm him from the inside out. It is a pleasure that simultaneously soothes and hurts him, bringing to mind all the faces of those he had lost.
Kune’s dark eyes drop to the earth and trace the shapes of the dead leaf litter. He sucks in a deep, trembling breath, blowing a cloud of condensation into the air, and thinks that Božena sounds just as lost as he is. It seems they are two souls wandering the abyss together, their movements mirroring each other’s without even realizing it. What kind of plan must the spirits have orchestrated to bring them here together?
“You may as well speak for me,” he finally says, looking up at Božena from beneath the dark veil of his forelock. “I don’t know what is happening, but I think we were meant to meet again, Božena. And if that is the case… my name is Kune. Kunžak. I think… I think we have a lot to talk about. Do you agree?” His voice is still hoarse, and he has never been much of a conversationalist, but his mind is brimming with unanswered questions. He watches her in anticipation, eyes bright with naked hope, his heartbeat in his throat.
8; kladruber; black; 17.2hh
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