WIPE YOU CLEAN WITH DIRTY HANDS
He does not see her –
She is chestnut and plain. She is not Corinth, so he does not see her. Not until she speaks, her voice a soft nudge. Gael stops in front of her, he lifts his finely made head. It is thin and dished, his ears are slender and they sit high up. He does not know her or remember her, which is not a surprise because no one is the same on these isles. It has changed so much since the last time he was where and he doubts there is a soul left who could tell him the answers he so desperately wanted to hear.
“Hello,” Gael says.
He tucks his chin into his chest, he snorts. Would she know where Corinth had gone? Where their children had been scattered? The black stallion takes a deep breath, he relaxes. His dark eyes roam over the chestnut, dart to the splatter of trees off in the distance, and then back to her. He’d only ever gone to the Peak once, to see Corinth, it had been a secret between them – he had been her secret. It didn’t bother him like it might have others.
Being a secret meant he was something worth keeping. “I’m sorry if I startled you, I wasn’t really paying attention,” Gael says to her and his tone soft, it slides from his mouth easily. He is not quite the mercenary he used to be anymore.