are the dead really silent?
I look over at Mariael. I could not see the world as she did, or feel what she felt. To know what she thought of my new home was impossible, but I could give her insight to what she may never have seen herself. Luthien is… muted. I had no other words for the plains. Though the sun shined bright, the wind was just as strong, and the green of the grass became just as vibrant, there was a subtly to the Prairie that simply did not exist in the tundra. In the place of mountains, there are trees. Waves of grass ripple like the water that surrounds us. The wind is far warmer, and far kinder than that which blows here. Vegetation is lush. My ears flick back and confusion twists within me. By most opinions, the Prairie would be a home coveted by all. Seasons come and seasons go, none of which attempted to kill you. The ground itself was not calling for you life. My head sank just so as I tried to continue to reconcile my soul with where I had found myself.
Pulling myself from my thoughts, I look over at Maziel and tried to contemplate her question. I am a son of Tinuvel. This place still calls to me. The caves and mountains saw my birth. Unconsciously my nose reached out to the mare who had been one of my first friends in my childhood. Save my sister, all I hold dear is here. But my father was concerned for the life and safety of myself and Ostara. He took us to a place he felt we could be protected. He found Shamwari an honorable man.
With a glance at Mariael that hesitated before shifting to the border of the Inlet I felt a hard pulse through my chest. That was my home. It was my birthright. I felt the fire burn within me. The Inlet was the realm that called and sang to me. It was my duty to bring it life, as it had been the life of me. A feathered hoof scraped against the stones of the ground and I breathed deep, wondering where my father was now.
Not in a sense. We found ourselves alone and he did not want that fate for us. He brought us to where he hoped we could thrive, and he left to find others. And now, someone else was ruling the land he held so dear. My ears laced back into my mane. Someone else was walking his trails, killing the life he had fostered in the face of death and hardship.
gypsy vanner mutt; XY; perlino tobiano;pagan x peyton;lost heir |