asha & zakhar
Grief was a sickness: that she had discovered all too well in the past few months. Combined with the sour burn of self-loathing and the sharp stab of fear, it made for an especially unpalatable ailment.
Thus, solitude became her only friend for a time.
A Tinuvelian summer was not long by any stretch of the imagination, and to Asha it seemed that no sooner had the days begun to lengthen and the bitter cold of the tundra begun to thaw that they began to shorten and grow colder all over again. At the very least, the fleeting season served to remind her that, though solitude may have been her only friend, time was passing and, with it, her son’s youth and innocence.
Becoming a mother for the first time was hard enough, but even just looking down at the colt’s supple little salt-and-pepper body and seeing the features of a stallion she had never met was enough to make her want to end it all sometimes. At least, when he was very small, she could ignore him for long stretches of time, being there only to provide a source of nourishment and warmth while he seemed quite content to entertain himself. But as the weeks passed, he began to turn his attention to her. He seemed to grow restless and unsatisfied with their stagnant, lonely way of life, and would pester her with his teeth and tongue, nipping her and asking her question after question until she could not ignore him any more.
It was then she knew she had to pull herself out of this. She was the daughter of Nymeria: she was strong. She could do better. She needed to do better, if not for herself then at least for Zakhar. He deserved more than being hidden away in the sheltered corners of the inlet like some terrible secret.
And so, one cool afternoon the heavy dappled mare led the way out onto the open expanse of heather and tundra-grass that comprised most of the territory. She hesitated at the edge, her dark eyes scanning the horizon, and felt a pang of disappointment when she found that most of the herd, Dogun included, was nowhere to be seen. There was, however, an unfamiliar silver mare resting against the trunk of a tree, and it was her that Asha set out towards at a leisurely trot.
Zakhar, overcome with excitement at meeting another horse, rushed up to greet the stranger first with nose outstretched and mouth chewing in an appeasing manner. Almost immediately he seemed to think better of his boldness and shied away, twisting his body and leaping backwards like a deer to observe the silver mare with perked ears and bright eyes a few paces away.
Asha, meanwhile, grew visibly wary as she approached and offered her nose only after pausing to gauge the mare’s reaction to their presence. “Hello,” she said in her low, soft voice. “Do you live here too?”
“Yeah, do you live here too?” the roan colt mimicked in a flippant way, as only a child could.
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