Rohanne could not remember what it was to be happy.
Her memories of childhood were dim, but the only truly uplifting experience she could recall was her first experience of snow. She and her sister had been young, very young, and had awoken in the middle of the night beside the figure of their sleeping mother to find that the world was cloaked in white. It had been an otherworldly sight, and had filled Rohanne with a sense of wonder that pervaded her soul so strongly that she remembered what it felt like to this day. She remembered how her heart had beat like a caged bird, and how her breath had caught in her chest.
Perhaps that was why, to this day, she was drawn to the bleak chill of the north.
But one pleasant moment could not be considered true happiness, for the rest of Rohanne’s childhood had been a vague blur of cold, grey fear. And her adult life had been no better. In fact, it had been much worse. For starters, she was now the only living member of her family.
At least the numbness of grief had passed. After a long period of hiding herself away in the shadows of the crossing, processing what had happened and grieving for the loss of her sister, Rohanne’s mind had begun to clear. Now, all she felt was a clear, cold anger. She was tired of being sad and scared, and she was tired of fate taking away the horses she loved.
Thus, she was determined that she would no longer be a victim of circumstance. From now on, Rohanne would take control of her life. And the first step toward that was returning to the one place in which she had any hope of having a future.
She did not waste any time when she arrived on the beach. Rohanne travelled inland with purpose, ears forward and eyes watchful, to the clearing along the edge of the forest where she remembered the herd had once often gathered. Mountains hugged the landscape on either side of her with a familiarity that was almost comforting, filling her with a sense of reassurance that she had made the right decision in coming here. However, the longer she travelled, the more a creeping sense of anxiety began to prickle on her skin. The inlet was empty, too empty. The only sounds were of trees sighing in the wind, and any remaining scents were old and stale. There were no hoof prints in the grass or hair caught on branches. Any trace of Nephilim and the large, sprawling herd he had once protected appeared to be completely gone.
By the time the mare reached the clearing, her hope had dissipated. Rohanne stood and stared across the empty, open expanse of tundra grass, and shivered against the chilly spring breeze.
Perhaps she was destined to be alone after all.
ROHANNE
4; grullo; draft mutt; 16.0hh |