Trell notices the way the stallion’s smile falters as he speaks of his twin, and the furrowed brow of the mare as thy both process his words and the potential meaning behind them. But neither one confronts him on his passive aggressive accusation, and since Kikka maintains her composure (sort of— a glance her way shows the tightness at the corner of her lips, the strain crinkling the corners of her eyes, and he congratulates himself on striking exactly where planned) and both of the other horses seem intent on carrying the conversation into smoother trails, Trell lets the topic fade. He’ll bring it up again when the two of them are alone, if Kikka doesn’t first, and pull her that much more tightly to him. He’s been wondering if it was a mistake to send her alone to that island— without his influence, she could be swayed easily by the first horse to pay kind attention to her. This “Zevu” she was first babbling about seems like just the sort of stallion who might be too nice. He doesn’t want that for her.
Trell sighs, a small and neutral sound, as the two explain their history together. Kikka, in turn, is absolutely fascinated by their dynamic. Her eyes go wide at Jola’s independent nature, and wider still at the declaration of Jusket’s prowess and formidability as a leader of a herd. He seems so kind— but, one does not need to be vicious to be an effective and worthy leader. "You’re partners," she says, surprised. "Working together well for the benefit of all. But, equal." her ears tip to the sides as she begins to consider this.
Which is Trell’s cue to distract her before she gets any wacky ideas to apply to their own relationship. He leans against her suddenly, mimicking her earlier display of affection, and she jolts as she catches his weight. "Strange? Perhaps not the word I’d use to describe anything we’ve seen. There’s been various herds we’ve traveled with here and there, small bands of nomads— no one too interesting. We prefer to travel just us two. But the places we’ve seen— Kikka’s much better at describing those. She’s got an eye for beauty in the world, and a different lens through which she views it all. What did you say when we first got here? All those little yellow flowers in the field, you called them tiny suns." He grins at the blue and pink duo, admiration in his voice as he praises Kikka.
Who, in turn, is so flattered by his sudden positive attention she abandons her attention on anything but him and their conversation, beaming a small smile over at Trell in quiet gratitude, forgetting entirely his derision at her fantastical observation that first full day in the Meadow. "There was a forest, once, with trees so tall we couldn’t even see the tops. The trunks were thicker than a horse’s barrel, and the lowest branches were hands above our heads. It was always early twilight under those trees during the day, and darkest midnight after the sun set. You couldn’t see the stars," Kikka address Jusket and Jola. She tucks her head under Trell’s chin as she continues, "And once, deep in the mountains, a lake hidden away at the base of a circle of low peaks. I’ve never seen water so blue. It was like a secret gem hidden away from the world, slopes lined with vibrant pines on one side and shale on another, scree we didn’t dare scale to get down to the water’s edge."
"Tell them about our mountains," Trell prompts her softly.
Kikka’s eyes unfocus. Her smile is dreamy. "Cold, even at the height of summer, snow still resting on the steep sides near the peak. A flat tableland cluttered with boulders and rocky piles. Short grass, purple flowers— wind that demands attention as it whips over the peaks, mountains for miles and miles around in every direction, at such a height that you feel like you can rear up and kick a hole through the sky."
Trell lets the full weight of his head rest atop his sister’s for a moment, a small embrace. Her favorite. "We grew up there," he tells the other two. “I believe our family’s herd called those peaks home, but we can’t remember our parents or the horses we used to run with. It’s just been me and Kikka for as long as either of us can recall. And we owned those mountains, didn’t we," he says fondly to Kikka.
"I’ve never seen another set of peaks like it," she says, agreement in her voice. "What are your mountains like?" Her eyes shift to Jusket and she presses a little closer to her brother as she asks, shyly, "And what made Jusket such a feared protector of his herd?" |