you shouldn’t walk where the hemlock grows

Faolain’s perception of Rougaru was gradually changing. She realized, as she returned the silver bay’s respectful nod before turning to limp home, that her expectations of him had been perhaps unfairly influenced by Shamwari’s warning. She hadn’t even realized his words had caused her to make a solid judgment of the Paradise stallion before even meeting him. She thought she had been withholding her opinion until she knew him personally, but in reality she was trapped by Shamwari’s own views. She did not know if the chestnut stallion had lied, or been influenced somehow as Faolain had and believed wholeheartedly that Rougaru was evil, but Faolain had not questioned him.

She was beginning to think she should have.

She did little over the next few days, keeping to her own or Rivaini’s company and trying to avoid stiffness from the fight by stretching and walking often. It was difficult - she either rested her twisted leg and suffered the stiffness, or she stretched and walked and worsened her twisted leg. She could not win, and just resigned to being in pain for the time being. On one of her walks, which were slow and heavily lopsided with her limp, she caught the scent of Rougaru along the border. Once, she might have been concerned, or even angry that he was close, but now she was just curious. She changed her course and limped toward the border, in no hurry. She reached it, turning to follow it, and soon enough the mahogany glimmer of Rougaru’s coat became visible through the green. He was waiting politely at the border, something she hadn’t exactly expected, but was less surprised by now that she was actively trying to shed Shamwari’s influence over her view of the Paradise stallion. Was he here for her, or to see Rivaini? Was he just acting polite so as not to overstep, and push away the mother of his child? She supposed it didn’t really matter, because either way it showed care and effort on his part, regardless of the motive. Nothing wrong with a careful father, she thought, and limped up to him with muzzle politely outstretched.

”Rougaru,” she greeted. ”I suppose there’s no need to wait at the border, is there?” she asked, her voice slightly strained with pain but holding a note of humor. ”I hope you are healing well. What brings you?” Faolain was a guarded individual by nature, and even now, she was careful not to let anything show in her face or eyes that she did not specifically place for the Wolf to see. Still, she was warmer than she had been in the past, and allowed him a small smile as she stepped to the side, inviting him past the border. ”Let’s walk, if you’re not too sore.”

mare | black | 14hh | akhal-teke