Her words bring his eyes back to her face, but the hurt and betrayal rakes his stomach like a knife. I don't know why he was here her words fill him with confusion, but it slowly begins to dawn on him. One of the men in the war gathering had done something to her and it torments her mercilessly. His glacial eyes desperately search her face, silently pleading for her to just tell him what haunts her.

His heart lurches as she turns away from him and her sobs mingle with the soft trickle of the creek. He dares to step closer to her, ignoring the nagging feeling that he should obey her request and leave her to her toiling. He can see her sides heave as the sobs rack her body, and the pain shakes her tawny colored skin. "I can fix it, my tígrisdýr, if you let me," he whispers as he dares to touch the supple cover of her growing belly. "None of this is your fault. I am to blame," he pauses as the emotion catches in his throat. The guilt freshly waves over him. "The war, hurting you, all of it is my fault," he says just above a whisper. He stops when his head is even with her shoulder, he just wants to feel her skin against his and to whisper to her that it would all be okay.

How was he supposed to know that his one action had now set the whole Islands on a course for war? "The war, is my fault. I will start with that first," he pauses momentarily before continuing. "I was new on the Islands and had headed back to Tinuvel to see what had happened to my birth place, when I came across Warsaw in the Inlet. He and I started to talk about all of what was happening on the Islands, and in the heat of my anger..." he trails off, his words form on his tongue, almost stuck behind his teeth. "I had said, so are you talking of war?" the final words hesitantly fall from his lips. "And he had immediately agreed, I had put a name to the monster that toiled beneath his smoky hide," he heaves a heavy sigh as the truth fills the still air around them.

"So it is I, who had put the idea in Warsaw's head, and it is I who has hurt you," his words leave his lips heavily. This was his confession, he had caused all of this, and now he had hurt the woman that he loved. "I had told you once before that I have forgiven you for everything and I had meant it," he dares to press his lips into her shoulder as he stands at her side. He does not understand the feeling that blossoms in his chest, he feels lightheaded and short of breath. And all he wants is to stand next to her and confess his every thought and feeling to her, to feel her skin against his, and to one day have his foal growing within her belly. "Please forgive me," he pleads with her, the fear rises in his chest and his heart thuds wildly against his ribs. "I have never felt this way about anyone before. I love," the final word is cut off as his throat fills with emotion. "You," he breathes the word into the still air. The soft caw of a parrot echoes through the canopy, disturbing the awkward silence.


Translation:
skrímsli: monster