Common

For a time there was nothing but the sounds of the sea, which Chelle listened to as intently as if they might contain the answers she sought. But if the waves had a voice, then they chose—as she often had—to spurn it. Instead, the steady rise and fall of the waves and gentle sighs that accompanied it gave the impression of the slumbering breaths of some great leviathan. It had a lulling effect on the tawny-gold mare, whose eyes drifted slowly closed. She didn’t sleep—the last dregs of adrenaline that lingered in her veins prohibited it—but did find the cadence of both her heart and her lungs slowing to match the rhythmic slapping of water until they inhaled and exhaled as one.

And then, abruptly, it ended.

Hi there. I’m Cain. “Oh!” The champagne mare exclaimed softly, lids lifting to reveal fear-dilated pupils that all but consumed the green ring that encircled them. For a few seconds—as long as it took for the warmth and kindness in the stranger’s voice to penetrate the fog of her panic—Chelle’s heart galloped erratically in her chest. But by the time his syllables faded into silence, she had regained her composure enough to tilt her head and furrow her brow at the unsatisfying note upon which this Cain had ended. She just looked... what? Studying the black-and-white male in surreptitious glances, Chelle could not help the visceral pulse of fear that chilled her blood, or the submissiveness that dropped her gaze. The dark patches on her companion’s coat—and strength evident in each subtle movement of his body—was too reminiscent of Judas for her to respond otherwise. Before him, she was a wild-eyed child again, awaiting judgment or command with bated breath.

Lost. Another voice picked up the tempo of Cain’s speech as if it had never lapsed, and the young woman could not help but to peek at its owner through the salt-crusted tangle of her forelock. As with the first creature who had approached her, Chelle was reminded strongly of an individual from her past but quickly dismissed the notion as wistful thinking. I’m just sick for home, she told herself firmly in the silence of her thoughts—though why her mind would conjure the two individuals it had in response to such yearning, she couldn’t explain. Her grandsire had always frightened and intimidated her, and the other… well, he had been exiled for a terrible crime. Anything that he might have been to her before that moment had long since ceased to matter.

I’m Solomon, of the Cove.

In only a handful of syllables, the breath was stolen from her and the earth tilted beneath her hooves. Chelle managed to remain standing, but her bones had softened to the point where she felt that she might collapse in upon herself. The glimpses with which she took in details of this second stallion’s appearance were even more subtle than the first, but by the end of a couple ragged breaths she was certain that she had misheard his name. The Solomon that she’d known had towered over her, whereas this one was of a height that—if she were to tip her head gently forward—the flat plane of her forehead would rest comfortably just below his eyes, and their warmth breath would intermingle in the sea-chilled air. And during the course of the next breath, Chelle wondered what had driven her to even contemplate such a bold act—at least, until his unanticipated question extracted her from the confusing tangle of her thoughts.

“I—I don’t know,” was all that she could think to offer in response, glancing from Solomon to the silent Cain appeasingly. “Please, I’ve never been here before. And I didn’t mean to intrude on your kingdom. I just—I didn’t have anywhere else to go.” The dauntless half of her heart chafed at the subservience of her words, but she forced it firmly down within her and dropped her gaze deferentially once again. What little defiance she’d possessed at the beginning of her journey had been abandoned with the last remnants of her childhood.

As much as Chelle longed to follow her heart, she had learned in the pain of her solitude exactly what such freedom could cost.