She knew who he was. Oswin stared at him with wide eyes for a minute, seeing both the young stallion that had burst from the Forest to fight her father alongside Nephilim and the stallion which Nephilim had described. It was emotionally jolting to see him standing in front of her, a stranger she felt she knew oddly intimately after just having returned from seeing her half-brother. Momentarily she realized when she returned to Nephilim next, she’d have news of one of his beloved ones and maybe, just maybe that would be enough to drag him from his self-pity and stir him into considering a return to the islands.
“I…” she hesitated, frozen for a moment before she shook her head, forcing herself to come-to and focus on what needed focusing on. “You saw me when I was a babe, or maybe you recognize something familiar about me.” Oswin hung on what she wanted to say, afraid she’d come across as mad if she blurted it all at his hooves. But her mind was racing, a hurricane of thoughts she could hardly grab hold of, and she was counting on things to happen before she’d even asked, thinking of how good it would be if Nephilim could see his oldest friend.
“You were with my brother once in the Prairie,” she chose her words carefully, facing him. “Nephilim. My half-brother. You’re… you’re Dances With Wolves, aren’t you?” She paused and swallowed, feeling anticipation tight in her stomach. “He’s told me about you.” She wanted to say more. She wanted to tell this stallion that Nephilim asked about him most times she went and how maybe, even for a minute, he’d be happy to hear she’d finally seen and met Dances. Before the guilt could steal him away, maybe she’d actually see relief touch him when he thought of his closest friend.
Maybe if she’d known the grief affecting the stallion before her, she wouldn’t have hesitated to tell the entire tale.
oswin
this is as brave as I know how to be.
I know it’s gonna hurt you, but please… be a little proud of me.