Falls

It would have been easy to lie here paralyzed by sorrow, and let the world continue to move around her.

But the stranger’s gentle touch was a tug that kept her lungs moving, her heart beating. I’m sorry, he spoke softly, offering the comfort of his empathy - or so Kvothe believed. And it buoyed her enough that she was able to tilt her chin up to look at him, striving to find the words to express her gratitude. Even though they had not succeeded in locating Pike, the patchwork stallion still deserved at least that much. And if it had been in her power to give him more - to will the universe to reward his kindness with good fortune - then she would have done that, too.

Not once during the course of the journey or the search had he voiced complaint, though she saw signs that were perceived as weariness. The labored sound of his breath, made heavy by arousal. The quiver of excitement, mistaken for the trembling of a body that had neared the end of its endurance. Even the caress of his lips and his breath on her red skin were not seen as they were, but as gestures intended to console her in her grief. And because of this, Kvothe truly believed herself fortunate to have crossed paths with the stallion who now named himself Tyr - believing him to be every bit as worthy of regard as the Prince whom she would return home to.

“I’m sorry,” she offered with genuine regret in response to his comment about the lack of improper greetings. Though her panic had been justified, she was still aghast by her the callous way that she had treated her companion. “I hope you can forgive me for my lack of etiquette, Tyr. I am called Kvothe.” His breath had trailed down her withers and now rested over the broader plane of her back, sending twin shivers of delight - and dread - through her body. Even in her distress, the ember-colored woman could not help to respond - because the response was something beyond conscious thought. Just as when Ironclad had engaged in such courtship last fall, Kvothe responded on an instinctual level without even understanding what was going on.

But her subconscious was not entirely silent - and whispered an silent warning into one red ear.

She rose before even giving the conscious command to her legs, swaying slightly from exhaustion - but suddenly certain that she should go. “Ironclad will be worried,” she murmured, hoping that the bachelor would understand the obligations that she bore, and not take offense at her departure. Of course, she was too kind herself to leave without preamble, too considerate to walk away before Tyr had a chance to speak his own farewells. And she was truly grateful, even with the strange unease that squirmed in the pit of her belly, causing her tail to lift itself away from the curve of her rump.

The silence hung between them for long enough that Kvothe became concerned that the golden stallion had been upset by her proposed abandonment. Frowning, she moved to touch her muzzle gently - briefly - to his. “I truly am grateful to you, Tyr - for bringing me here. For trying to find my daughter. I wish there was a way that I could repay your kindness.” Her lips trailed up to his cheek, then over the curve of his neck. There was nothing coy or seductive about the gesture; this touch was a simple extension of the gratitude that she had just expressed. But - pulling back to look into his odd-colored eyes - Kvothe saw, truly saw the intensity there for the first time, and was more than a little frightened by it. Yes, it was definitely time to go.

“Goodbye, Tyr,” she breathed, taking the first couple steps that would lead her back to Tinuvel. Steps that required her to brush directly along the chimeric creature’s side, exiting the clearing in the direction opposite of that which he faced.