I've been burying a mountain
I've been running uphill
I've been pushing up a big weight
“Yes,” he breathes, and the next affirmation is soft and drawn out, like a gentle hiss under his breath. Yesss. The mare’s words are like the snap of a twig that triggers an avalanche. Memories come flooding back, ones that he has not thought of for so long. The Prairie. Leaping to Nephilim’s side in defence. Guadalupe, his mother, settled in a new home, with a pair of foals that she would not leave behind. The feelings of anger and pain that are stirred up only seem to add to the burden of grief that he carried, raw and weeping.
Dances had heard it said that there was no storm so dark that it did not have a silver lining, and in this moment of need, the painted stallion’s came in the form of a filly. She was almost completely clothed in pale sunlight, save for a patch on her face. Hers had been the gentlest and most beautiful soul, and through his grief, he waded towards his memory of her, sorrier than he could say that he had forgotten about her for so long. It was decided then in his heart that he would return to the forest to look for her, and when he found her, he would hold on and never let go again.
The mare before him spoke his name, and it was this that drew him back into focus. He stared at her, uncomprehending for a moment. “He… Spoke to you about me?” The thought both warmed and chilled Dances at the same time. It felt so good to be reminded by a relative stranger that he had meant something to the leopard spotted stallion, but Dances felt his legs weaken, and he lowered his blue eyes just a moment, struggling to recall if Nephilim had ever mentioned a name. And then it came to him. “Oswin?”
It was then that his throat tightened, and everything hurt so much more, because he knew now, what Mariael had felt like, conveying such terrible news to him. “You don’t know?” His words were whispered, almost begging her. He wanted to back away, leave now, so that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell her. But, something held him in place, and he liked to think that it was a small first step on a long and winding road, one that would take him home to his Queen and Family and he’d reunite with them and hold his head high. He wanted to be brave, and do the right thing, no matter how hard it was. “Your brother… N-Nephilim is dead.” Voice raw, eyes filled with misery. Somewhere out there was his silver lining, but his heart kept pulling him home.
that I’m carrying still
DANCES WITH WOLVES |