dances with wolves
let me come closer, i’m not your shadow
Dances With Wolves paused as the other named the island, and nodded, committing the name to memory. He caught the flicker of emotion on the spotted stallion’s face, and wondered ever more deeply about this stranger. He sensed that it was something very personal though, and seeing as he had landed up here, imposing upon the leopard appaloosa’s home, and the last thing he wanted to do was to upset or offend him, and be driven back into the sea. Dances wasn’t sure he’d last long if that happened. The sea had somehow become one of his monsters, and it only made him respect it more.
“Nephilim,” Dances quietly repeated the name. It was good, knowing what others were called, even if Dances had developed his own way of naming, in a way. No, that wasn’t quite it… He found attributes in others that he admired, respected, or was grateful for, and in time, associated individuals with these things as often as the names they went by. It was not something that was easy to define, or explain. He had tried to tell Guadalupe once, but the words never came out right. She had just smiled, and with a chuckle, had lipped at his two-toned, growing mane. It was Dances who was silent for a moment now, a longing for his mother growing in his chest. She had been so sure he was ready. But it wasn’t true. He just didn’t want to admit that, or call out to her from the shore. Because she believed him to be strong, and wise, and he was afraid of the disappointment he’d see in her eyes, if he proved her wrong.
Standing before Nephilim, Dances was afraid again. Not of the young stallion, but of having to admit that he was scared of the sea, no, terrified, and that he couldn’t leave, not yet. Guadalupe had told him never to show your weaknesses, but it was hard. It was hard when you were lonely and alone. He tried to remain outwardly calm, even though inside his heart was beating fast. He had never been one who could hide his emotions, and he wondered if he should look away, hide the figurative cracks in his mask. But, no. Dances had nothing to hide, and he wanted to be honest and open with this stallion, who so far seemed reasonable. Blue eyes met gold, waited. And then Nephilim spoke, and it was all Dances could do not to sob aloud with relief. “Thank you,” he said quietly, earnestly. And then he smiled tiredly, and followed where Nephilim led him, touched by the kindness shown to him.
As Nephilim explained a little, Dances listened in silence, and wondered when Nephilim had come here (and then, why here? Had he been forced to climb ashore here, as Dances himself had, and found the place quiet, decided to stay? Had he been searching for a home? Had he himself been to the other islands, as he was asking of Dances now?) “No, only the Crossing.” Guadalupe had spoken with such passion about seeing the world – discovering all kinds of places, seeing natural wonders with her own eyes. Dances had listened in silence then too, not quite feeling the same, but unwilling to admit to that. Guadalupe was one that was content with her own company, but Dances… His heart thirsted for shared discovery of the world. The bay and white colt did not want to walk the world alone.
They approached the caves, and the thought of shelter was soothing to the colt’s tired spirit. He followed Nephilim in, thanking him genuinely again, before moving off a little to rid his coat of what little water was left on it. He was exhausted, and much as he wanted to converse further with Nephilim, sleep soon took him, and he slept deeply, dreaming of the sun, a kind and faceless figure who shined in a deep darkness, and a girl who was running from a wolf, the roars of a lion coming from her mouth.
with our eyes shielding us from oncoming counts
it’s not hard for us to say what we should not |