“When are we leaving?”
Zevulun lifted his head from the grass he’d been grazing on, chewing the bit he’d taken as he looked into the hard, quiet gaze of his son, Raziel.
“Leaving?” He echoed, blinked, and straightened his posture. “What do you mean?”
“Come on, dad.” Raziel huffed and snapped his pale tail, then glanced around them before looking back at his father. “Our time on these islands has been over for a long, long time. What are we doing here?”
“What do you mean? Our time here has just begun. We’re not going anywhere.”
“We shouldn’t have come back.”
“You wouldn’t have ever met Orphiel if we hadn’t, or known he existed.”
“Maybe that’s for the better.”
Shock, followed by anger rippled across Zevulun’s face. His ears flicked back as he stared at his quiet, hard-headed son. “You can’t be serious, Raziel.”
“I am! What does it even matter? He won’t speak to me and if he does, it’s just to remind me that he hates me for bringing him into this world and abandoning his mother. Maybe you and Ramiel have settled here happily, but I haven’t.”
“Give him time, Raziel.”
“I’ve given him plenty.”
“I’m not leaving. Ramiel seems content to stay here. I don’t want you to leave, but if you’ve learned nothing from your aunt Mariael’s faults, there’s nothing I can do or say to help you.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.” Raziel spit angrily, tail flicking with a loud, resounding crack against his pale spotted hind. His ears went back, right front hoof stomping hard into the summer grass.
“It seems, Raziel, like you’re not after a conversation so much as a fight, which I’m not interested in giving you. You can leave us, if you want, I’m not forcing you to stay here. But Orphiel is your son. My life is here and it’s going to remain here.” He wanted to say more, to scold his son further for having such angry thoughts and for even thinking of turning his back on Orphiel again. But, when he opened his mouth and saw that anger in Raziel’s blue eyes, he exhaled it in defeat. Raziel had always been very close to Mariael and, since her downfall, he’d taken it the hardest. He was more sensitive than he came across, and Zevulun had to imagine the tense relationship between he and his son was getting to him. “I’m sorry, Raziel, but I am not leaving these islands again.”
Zevulun looked at his son a moment longer, fighting the ache in his heart at seeing so much of his sister in him, then turned to walk away. Raziel stayed behind, ever quiet, back to being a wall he could tuck his feelings behind. As Zevulun walked he looked for Ramiel, but did not see him. Hopefully he was near. Ramiel had always been best at speaking to Raziel.
He walked through the shadowed trees until his thirst pulled him inland, through the summer heat and the sun that cast a glow over his pale, spotted coat. He drew his eyes toward the blue sky above, judged where the sun was hanging and how many hours they’d have left of light before it sank below the horizon, then glanced down again. He crested the hill near the closest pond, then stopped.
One of Balor’s mares, an elusive one he had yet to meet, was standing alone there, having had the same need for water that he’d had. He noted her less-than-approachable stance and considered turning and leaving her be too make for a different water source, but then decided against it. He’d sworn to protect every horse in these lands when he offered to allow Balor and his family to stay, which meant this mare, too. He may as well get to know her, or see how approachable she was, anyways.
Zevulun rumbled a nicker from his chest and started carefully down the slope to the waters edge. His pale hooves sank into the muddy bank, then splashed into the water as he didn’t stop until it lapped at his front knees. Eyes still on her, ears pointed curiously at her, he lowered his pink lips to the waters surface and drug a few deep drinks down. Though not as refreshing as the running rivers near the Forest border, it was still nice on a hot, mid-summer’s day like the one they were in now.
He lifted his chin, water droplets dribbling off it and hitting the water he stood in. Then, he turned and pulled himself from the water and to the bank where he could make his way around, closer to her. He kept a careful eye in case she didn’t want him anywhere near her and drove him away, and stopped a comfortable distance for them both. He wouldn’t need to shout to speak to her, and hopefully she wouldn’t feel like he was trespassing on her personal space.
“Hope you don’t mind the interruption or the company. I promise I’m not that bad to have a conversation with.” He knew that she knew who he was, by now, but for appearances sake he still offered, “I’m Zevulun, since we haven’t officially met.”
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