DANCES WITH WOLVES
ever growing, steadfast
He stood among the trees, on the edge of the beach, trembling as though he was about to fall apart. Nephilim had led him from the Prairie into the relative safety of the forest that bordered it, and emotionally exhausted, Dances had fallen behind. By the time he made it to the shore, Nephilim was already in deep water, desperate to leave. Dances knew he should follow, but he couldn’t breathe properly, and didn’t trust his quaking legs to bear him safely. Lips parted, and he almost called out come back, but the words lodged themselves at the top of his throat, tasted sour on his tongue. ‘Dances, in all you do, think of how your actions will affect others.’ He almost sobbed, recalling the memory. Guadalupe had taught him many things. And despite everything, despite his bitterness towards his mother, and his fear of loneliness, his need for company right now, he couldn’t… He couldn’t call Nephilim back to this place that had become a monster to him, just as the sea itself was a monster to Dances With Wolves.
To do so would be selfish, and that was one thing Dances never wanted to be.
So, just as before, he watched Nephilim disappear beyond sight, and with every minute that passed, he tried not to think about what the sea might do to the spotted stallion. He dwelled instead on Nephilim’s kindness. And the strange kind of sorrow that seemed to burn in him. Maybe that was all it was, the light Dances had seen in him, leading him out of a darkness. Maybe there had been no light at all, just another aching soul. Like draws to like. Guadalupe had told him that too. Dances With Wolves scoffed. There was no light. They were just two of the same ilk, and loneliness and pain had pulled them together.
Was it selfishness to want more than that for Nephilim, and therefore himself?
It didn’t take long for the events in the Prairie to overwhelm him anew. His mother had left him, hadn’t looked back. Her sides had been swollen when she had left, and he had known what that meant. But he had never thought that she would stay away. If Guadalupe was to be defined by one thing, it was that she needed freedom, needed to move, and sleep beneath a different tree each night. Nearly two seasons… And he had come looking for her, to see if she was safe and sound, to find that she had settled down, joined a herd, found herself a perfect new life, with the stallion Dances assumed had fathered her the two foals that he had seen by her side.
He had fled, waited for her to come after him, and tell him that it was all a misunderstanding. That she had been longing to return to him, thinking about him every night. That she had been hurt, unable to make the swim. That one of the foals wasn’t hers. That she was as eager as ever to move on and that, just as his own father had been a fleeting figure in her life, so was the brown stallion with his spotted rump. But Nephilim was long gone. And Guadalupe hadn’t come. Dances knew in his heart that she wouldn’t. Tears clouded his vision, made his face feel hot, and as they trailed down his muzzle, he thought of returning, of seeking her out, driving the foals away from her, and asking why. Why did you leave me? Why didn’t you come back for me? Why am I not enough for you?
He remained rooted to the spot, however, and as much as he would have liked to claim it was because he never wanted to be selfish, that if his mother was happy, he would leave her to her life, even if it meant he wasn’t part of it. But the truth was, he was afraid. He was so afraid. The bay, blanketed stallion that had been tussling with Nephilim had managed to bite Dances too, and it brought the sourness back to his tongue, the way he’d turned tail and run so easily. But Nephilim had called him, and there had been nothing left there for Dances. The bite on his neck ached, and there was a shallow cut along his side that must have been from a branch trailing it’s tip over his skin as he passed it by in his haste to flee.
With a sad sigh, he shook his head, blinking away the last of his tears, and settled between the trees trying to calm himself enough for the swim. All the while, he stood, one ear turned back just in case he was viewed as an unwelcome presence here too, to be driven into the salt water with teeth and hooves. Within the painted colt, a war was waging. His self-doubt and feelings of worthlessness pushed against the concept of selflessness. Dark and light. One day, maybe he would think of his mother without feeling all this pain and loathing, and just be happy for her. Maybe he would come back, to meet his siblings. But all he wanted at the moment was to leave and never come back. He needed to talk to someone. He needed to see that Nephilim had made it home safe, and he needed to return to the Crossing for Zaida. Swimming was too much for him at the moment, and so, with his frustration increasing with every moment that he lingered, he found himself looking up at the branches above. The way the light danced among the leaves was beautiful. A fleeting smile.
Maybe he wouldn’t leave Luthien without some kind of hope to hold onto after all.
be the never turning back
TWICE THE HEART ANY MAN COULD HAVE |