Common

Kendry has always been an expressive horse, finding it a useless waste of energy to try and disguise his feelings. Why hide anger if someone upsets you? Why fight grief if you are full of sorrow? He lets his moods pass through him unimpeded and though they may be intense they are short lived because they meet no obstacles. These feelings are a part of life, and essential to a fulfilling one, and he has been watching Elara so closely because it seems as if she wants to reject her emotions— as if by pretending they aren’t happening they will just magically go away. He is relieved to see her grin, then, with genuine ease, and with that (and perhaps his careful probing), she seems to stop fighting herself. He nods in sympathetic understanding as she admits to losing her companions, and finds it interesting that she does not bring up the idea at all of searching for them. Kendry considers this. It is possible they were separated by the sea itself, or, he thinks morbidly, she witnessed the ocean take them on their way here and she is the only one to have survived. That shock and trauma might account for her detachment and nerves. He decides not to press again on that subject just now.

He ducks his head at her compliment, uncharacteristically embarrassed to receive her kindness. “I’ve not been to Salem, myself. It’s a hot place and I’m too hairy to be comfortable,” he hefts one feathered leg and chuckles. “Atlantis, though, I know is home to some good souls. If you don’t mind humidity it’s a beautiful place. Jungles and a mountain range and big open fields,” he nods as he describes it, wondering if Gnome is still comfortably embedded in Paradise. It must be blissful there for his old friend during the winter. Personally, Kendry would be miserable from the lack of snow.

Elara surprises him then. His blue eyes meet hers in full, startled to hear such praise. It turns something in his chest, sends a flush of heat under his skin and makes the pale stallion stand straighter, taller, with legs firmed beneath him. Her offer to help lifts him further, but it is that initial comment which prompts a murmured but heartfelt, “Thank you,” from him. Kendry remembers then what it is he has been seeking for so long, and sees the fog across his path dissipate to mist. The light is there. His way is once again clear. “Thank you, Elara,” he says again, reaching out to nose her cheek to emphasize the gratitude he feels words are not enough to express. Then he looks past the tree under which they stand and into the deepening night. “This is as good a place as any to rest. Sleep. I’ll keep watch, and in the morning I can show you the best grazing spots around here to pick up your strength.”

Buoyed by her belief in him, Kendry shifts to stand closer and share their body heat between them, cocking a hind hoof and settling in for the night. His ears move infrequently, swiveling to catch the low cry of an owl or the distant shuffling of some creature through the snow. It promises to be an uneventful watch, but it is a watch he keeps all the same.