mist on the mountain
rising from the ground
There was nothing quite like the feeling of steadiness that the sight of Mariael brought him. As the two stood close, close but not quite touching, Dances missed the moment that seemed to pull the pale mare before him in two ways. He himself was teetering on the edge of something. Right then, in the midst of it, Dances had no idea what it was, but one day he would look back to now, to this returning and this reunion between just the two of them – two lonely souls in an unforgiving land, and he would see with clarity that he was hovering on the edge of tranquillity. Somehow, in the stillness, and the cold, with just Mariael present to concern himself with, Dances With Wolves found himself at peace.
This did not last for long, however. Mariael’s answer to his question set him on edge. It wasn’t all bad though – the Bay was back under her control, and the absence of Maziel was explained. At this, Dances flicked an ear, and turned his head to look out across the water, considering returning to it, even though brine still dripped from his mane and tail, still gleamed wet on his coat. Mariael had let her sister go, and Zevu was with her. But still, something didn’t sit right with Dances, and it made him restless. Something was wrong. And then she spoke again, and he knew.
Blood ran cold, felt like ice in his veins. Didn’t know he was holding his breath until his lungs started to burn for fresh air. Mariael was speaking still, but Dances couldn’t hear properly, not over the pounding in his head and the wind that seemed to be muttering in his ears. No, no, no… “No, no, I don’t – he can’t--” Dances With Wolves stumbled, for it felt like the ground beneath him gave way. Ever since his mother had abandoned him, and he’d washed up on these shores… Nephilim had been his only family, until the girls came, and others after them. Sai. Tolinka. Shiriki… They were all beyond his reach now, but he felt tied to them still. Just as he’d felt tied to Nephilim, only moments ago, in that moment of peace. Now, though, everything came undone.
“The wolves…” Somehow the stallion had managed to make sense of Mariael’s tale, and it was this detail that he held fast to. Breathing came quick, anger flushed the chill out of his blood, and he burned, with rage and with guilt. “Should’ve killed those damn wolves when they chased Nahuel into the sea!” he spat, seething and not at all the Dances that Mariael knew well. He could feel the grief threatening to take him, as the current had taken Tolinka what felt like a lifetime ago. He was shaking, and wanted so much in that moment to comfort Mariael, but he held back, because some tiny part of him held fast to the hope that Nephilim had survived against all odds. And to bare his broken heart before this mare, daughter of his lost brother, his Queen...
He was a coward still. Only, this time, his cowardice was not in avoiding the sea and all that lay beyond the water. His cowardice was turning back into the foaming water, and running from the pain he was not ready to face. In days to come, Mariael’s lone figure, standing on the shore, would haunt his dreams, as would the words he’d called to her over his shoulder, heavy with an unspoken apology; “I’ll come back to you, Mariael. I’ll always come back to you.”
there’s no denying beauty makes a sound
DANCES WITH WOLVES |