To see Božena take one tiny step backward, away from him, is a lance through Kunžak's heart: a wound so deep and painful she might as well have set upon him with hooves and teeth, spitting every foul curse under the sun. He would deserve it, of course. Božena has no right to forgive him for abandoning her.

Following the argument that had led to their separation, Kunžak had retreated to the lowlands of the Crossing to wallow in his misery. While he'd only intended on being gone a few days - while he processed how he could possibly break his vows and abandon his life's calling as a Strážce to fulfill the more intimate role Božena desired of him - days had turned into weeks, weeks into months, and months into years. The deep existential crisis that Kunžak had battled with in that period had seemed insurmountable at the time, but now it seems trivial: ridiculous, even. He feels unworthy to stand before her.

Yet stand he does: his head high, his dark gaze unwavering, his breath deep and steady despite the thundering of his heart. If he is to be Božena's equal - to break past the humble role of a stallion and Strážce he's buried himself in his entire life - he must show her through these small actions.

As he continues to drink in her appearance with shining eyes, he picks up more and more minor variations in her appearance that remind him just how long he's been gone. She still carries herself with strength and authority, but she no longer looks like a princess to him. She looks like a queen: a warrior queen. A mare who has picked herself up after every fall and carried on with fire in her heart.

He found me too are the first words she says, and momentarily Kune's eyes drop to the wide-eyed, innocent expression of Kuráž. But then Božena continues: Will you stay? For now, at least?

The tiniest flicker of something - relief, hope - ignites in Kunžak's chest. He presses his lips together in order to suppress a smile, and nods once. The old Kune might have prostrated himself with something like, "If that is what you wish of me", but this Kune resists such an urge. He also resists the burning desire to make grand, sweeping promises, for he can sense delicacy and distrust in Božena, like that of a deer that might be spooked at the slightest whiff of danger. Instead, he rumbles in their mother tongue, "I will stay."

His gaze drop's to the colt's, and softens. "Don't worry, child. You did nothing wrong." For a moment he wonders at the colt's ignorance, and makes a mental note to tell him everything later (within reason, of course, for some things are unsuitable for a child's ears), or to at least bridge the gaps in knowledge that Božena had not filled. Kunžak hopes, too, to get a moment alone with Božena to find out the full story of how a young Dotkl Jednoho had come to be in her life, as well as everything that had transpired in their time away from each other.

He can only pray that she had not found another to replace him, though it may be a futile hope with how long they’ve been apart.

His dark eyes find and hold Božena's gaze again, burning with everything he cannot say. “You look well, Božena.”