They had been everywhere and so they could go anywhere.
For their first year of life Maziel and Mariael, sisters who’d never left the other’s company since they were born (to different dam’s, no less) had lived among cold, biting winds and peaks of white snow which never melted. Their previous year of life (as they were now two-years old) was spent abroad, in a sense, away from the chain of islands both they and their father had been born onto. It had been an unplanned trip birthed by unfortunate circumstances when Maziel was swept away by riptide and lost, taking both Mariael and their father three months before they found her stumbling around the mainland, a place the three of them had never been.
They’d only grown more lost as time trickled on and as the days stretched into weeks and then months, something changed in both Mariael and their father. Mariael became angry, almost cruel in what biting retorts she spoke (never to Maziel, but always to their father). Guilt swelled inside her as she thought of her mother in the Bay and worried over her wellbeing. Their father, too, took the burden of guilt onto his shoulders and it changed him in some ways. What little confidence he’d begun to build during their first year of life was yanked beneath his hooves and he was hollow.
Maziel had once found a conch shell on the beach, pressing against its roughly etched edges and blowing softly into the empty grooves to try and imagine its shape (for you see, Maziel was born blind). In a way, her father reminded her of a conch shell. The surface was intact, but the inside was empty.
While their father became quiet and withdrawn and Mariael became irritable and short-tempered, Maziel became morose. The three were miserable together, but to split apart would be worse. Maziel knew it was her fault the three were on the mainland rather than the islands and she’d been relieved when they’d found their way back. The relief had grown by a tenfold when they returned to Tinuvel, to the Bay, yet any hopes of her family returning to the way they were had become quickly dashed.
Now that they’d returned to the Bay, Mariael – who had previously told Maziel there was no need to ever leave Tinuvel – simply told her sister one morning they’d be swimming to Crossing Isle. Their father overheard her tell Maziel this, but said nothing. Mariael started off for the shoreline and Maziel found herself stuck between wanting to comfort her father and assure him the emptiness of the Bay was no fault of his (for, again, it was hers entirely) and to accompany Mariael because she could tell her sister needed her now more than ever.
“Go, Maziel.” Said her father quietly, clearly having caught on to her dilemma. “Mariael needs you.”
Maziel turned and trailed after her sister, following her into the water and hoping one day she wouldn’t dislike swimming so greatly. Because her first experience had nearly caused her to drown, Maziel wasn’t sure it was likely to change any time soon. Glad the waters were not as rough this day, Maziel trailed after Mariael by listening for her harsh puffs of breath and body breaking through the current.
The duo made it to the shore of Crossing – the temperature already degrees higher than Tinuvel – but Mariael did not pause to rest. Maziel trudged after her sister, anguish rising with each step Mariael seemed determined to walk. She became distinctly aware Mariael was just walking to walk. She was angry about something, but as always with Mariael, she wasn’t much one for opening up. Normally Maziel would be content to stand by idly and wait for Mariael to confess every fear and woe upon her heart.
This time she wasn’t certain she had the patience.
“Mariael, please… stop.” But Mariael did not. “Mariael…”
Still, her sister did not slow. Maziel was aware of the roar of waterfalls (one quick flick of her hear told her they were to her left).
“MARIAEL!” Maziel never yelled. Never shouted. It was always with a sweet voice she spoke, always with words seemingly oversaturated in kindness and empathy. This time they were clipped in anguish, not quite mean, but desperate. Mariael paused, ears flicking back.
The pair were very near a strange stallion they’d never met, but if Mariael noticed it seemed she didn’t care. She hardly paid him a glance; it looked as if he’d been dozing off, anyways.
“Mariael,” sighed Maziel, stepping toward her sister and reaching – bumping her haunch with her muzzle and running it along her sister’s torso. “You need to stop tormenting yourself.” Chided Maziel, voice returned to the gentility it naturally possessed. “You’re only hurting yourself.”
And others closest to her, though Maziel would never dare lay such a guilt across Mariael’s back.
Mariael tensed and Maziel braced herself for an argument. She dreaded the day they would fight about this but also welcomed it, because once Mariael opened up, Maziel was normally able to get her to see reason and to stop hurting others in order to hurt herself. But Mariael relaxed and then sighed. “I think we have company.” Mariael had turned her head, ears pointed at the black stallion nearby. Had Maziel’s shout awoken him from his peaceful spring-time nap?
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