"when there are no words,
and everything hurts…"
Dalibor kept his distance, and tried to let go of the tension that pulled his muscles taut. It was not his intention to cause the mare any trouble, and if she showed obvious distress, or reacted to his presence with aggression, he’d allow wisdom to guide him for once, and quietly take his leave. As it was, however, despite her initial apprehension (for which Dalibor absolutely did not blame her for, all things considered), she seemed to contemplate the message he’d attempted to convey, and acted on it.
It would be a lie for Dalibor to deny to himself that he was relieved she’d understood and followed his direction, and as the silent bay stallion fell into a steady pace some distance behind the tall red mare, he did not hesitate, nor look back, even though the howling woods called to him. If he were to falter, even for a moment, he feared he’d slip through the thick shadows between the trees and be lost.
What kept him grounded in this moment, in his decision not to give in to the raging bloodlust buried within him, was studying the mare some small distance ahead, as well as her child, whom Dalibor was only granted glimpses of every now and again. The mare had blood on her skin, Dalibor could smell it. It made his stomach turn, the sensation sickening. It caused him to slow in his stride, and hang back, even when the trees began to thin out. It would be safer, this way, for the mare and for her son. Dalibor only ended up harming those he got too close to.
Still, he lingered at this extended distance, hovering in the treeline, watching and waiting. With a gentle snort, he sought to reassure the red mare that he was still there, wishing he could somehow tell her that if she wanted to rest, he would remain here, on guard, so that if the fighting did follow them this far, or another wanderer in the woods happened to stumble across them, he’d be ready to react.