there is always so much weighing on her, distracting her, keeping her from just feeling anything that Božena has done well enough getting along since he has been gone. the saying that absence makes the heart grow fonder is true, but she finds it also makes the heart grow harder. change must be dealt with, one must adapt, continue living.. carry on. she has, though not always the most productively. she has kept alive, thrived almost, but it has not been the life she dreamed of nor one she would wish on her friends, an incomplete life.

they always seem to be watching each other cautiously, cordially. in some ways it is like it always had been, and in other ways, quite different. there is a sore between them, one that has healed but still has the potential to peel back open and fester into another open wound. they both guarded that tender area, but sooner or later, she knew it must be addressed.

there is nothing to be done about the past, the time they had lost, the hurt that had already transpired but Božena treads carefully because of her concern for the future. by now she knew that she would survive losing him again. the stoic mare had discovered that, unfortunately, there was quite a lot of tragedy that she could survive. but she did not want to consider the idea of it. she feared deeply that she would not want to survive if she lost him again, especially if it was out of her own doing.

though his dark eyes find her as he nods, they seem far away, guarded. or perhaps she is just so used to him holding in his thoughts that she just assumes he does it still. when she settles beside him looking out over the vast landscape, they stand within touching distance but the air between them feels as solid as lead. it takes a bit of courage to pull her eyes away from the green hills below and search his face as he replies in their mother-tongue, the sudden seriousness of the moment causing her to switch the course strands of her black tail anxiously. as i did you.

she swallows a hard knot in her throat, catching his eyes. they are clearer now, and burning with warmth. Božena is strong, as strong as anyone she knows at least, but still she is not strong enough to hold his gaze. her dark brown eyes turn down, away from his, and her body feels rigid, every nerve taut. breakable, though she cannot afford to be.

the tension between them builds by the second and she can feel the pressure of his eyes bearing down, rather than them pulling away as they once might have. her ears flick back into the tangled black crown of mane at her poll, processing. i’m sorry., he says. she feels her heart splinter, and it hurts even though she knew it was coming. like a kick to the ribs, she cannot breathe. regret.

it is tempting to turn tail and careen up the mountainside, to put distance between her and reason for the tidal wave of emotion that finally comes crashing down. loss. pain. she had not dealt with these things since Kune left. she had buried them deeply down. pushed them away to deal instead with peak business, business of her friends and the bratry she had befriended. she had taped her shattered heart into the appearance of something whole but the brokenness was inescapable now.

she winces, visibly, because despite all her great strength, a battle wages within the ebony mare. a battle between her desire to collapse at his feet and her desire to keep her battered heart firmly sheltered from what it covets most in order to protect it. after exhaling a shuddering breath, her near-black eyes lift back up, surprised that his gaze is just as direct as it had been. he is there, waiting for her, and words fail.

though it feels as if she is defying the nature of gravity itself, shifting the world, Božena lifts her large head toward the arch of his neck, breaking the wall between them. she gives a little then, letting some of her weight lean against him as she pushes her curved forhead against his ink-black skin. she exhales a soft shaky breath. ”Kunžak”…

why have we done this to ourselves? the question turns in her head but she doesn’t let it escape, not yet at least. instead, she feels a hot flush of tears as she presses her head against him, ears still twisted back into the wispy black strands of her mane. it takes all her will power not to sag against him, but she holds just strong enough that if he were to step away, she could stand on her own. she has learned that it is safer that way. ”i didn’t mean mean for you to leave. i don’t… i don’t want that.” she cannot say what she wants… because the last time she did, it went poorly. but at least now, in this moment, she can find the courage to tell him something.