As she walked, her movements became hollow and automatic; her mind wandered to a place far away. She imagined Aleksei's face: how it might change and contort when he spotted her returning to the frozen shores of his beach, and how it might change and contort for a second time once he noticed the swell to her belly. Would he know that it was his own doing? Would he understand? Would he think she had allowed another male to impregnate her? Would he simply not notice at all? He was so very young: younger even than her. Perhaps he'd never had a child before. Perhaps he hadn't understood what they had done any more than she had. Perhaps his expression would be placid; perhaps he would be blissfully unaware of her situation, and maybe there would only be the flicker of confusion at the sight of her huge barrel, hidden tactfully in favor of a more acceptable expression of joy at her arrival.

Rhaella was imagining what she would say, how she would convey to the crippled, mysterious youth that he must become her bunhil or else she risked damnation from Malachite. And this, despite its legendary, rather than tangible, status, managed to fill Rhaella with a very real fear. She appeared all the part of a woman on a mission, yes, but in truth she was almost as exhausted and as all-over aching as she had been the day she had been washed up on the shores of Tinuvel, lungs water-logged and legs trembling with the exertion of swimming for so long. She was just wondering if she would be angry, calm, or if she would cry when she spoke to Aleksei, when a noise stirred her into consciousness. Suddenly her movements were no matter automatic: she had to force herself to keep moving, and the knowledge that the noise had come from directly behind her sent an instinctive chill up her spine.

She almost bolted, but curiousity outweighed her instincts and finally, after taking a deep breath to prepare herself, Rhaella halted in her tracks, and with nostrils flared, turned ninety degrees to eye her distractor. It was a stallion, a gleaming chestnut, with one foggy eye and an inquisitive, non-hostile expression. Dante. "What does it mean?" he asked her, but Rhaella only gaped at him, her pale lips parted with surprise, uncomprehending. She had almost half-expected to run into him, and yet, at the same time, she hadn't thought it would actually happen. Should she turn and keep going, or should she take his interruption as a sign from Aeros? She stood in silence for several moments, watching him, uncertain. "What?" she finally asked, and shifted her weight impatiently. Should I be happy to see him again?

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three | sooty flaxen chestnut sabino | 15hh | saddlebred mix | shiva