Ylva watched the confrontation from afar: Nova, standing guard over the tiny sleeping form of her newborn filly, acting as a barrier between her and the negative attentions of Warsaw. Ylva could not hear what was being said, but the body language exchanged between the two adults was clear enough, and it only served to affirm Ylva’s suspicions that Nova’s child did not carry Warsaw’s blood.
It chilled Ylva to the bone to watch this confrontation. She looked down at the sleeping form of Torsten, then off in the distance at the twins, who were playing together among the summer flowers, their palomino coats gleaming molten gold in the light of the setting sun. They were nine months old now, fully weaned, and beginning to show their true personalities. Ylva loved them more every day, and counted her blessings that Warsaw had not shown them the least bit of attention so far, but something told her it was only a matter of time before he did. In another year or so they would be mature, and Ylva feared that Warsaw would choose that time to swoop in. Likely he would ship Jojo off to who-knows-where, which was bad enough, but Ylva also did not doubt for one second that he would keep Quinnie here for his own amusement. Somehow, that was the worst possibility of all.
Ylva knew she could not stop Warsaw from doing whatever he wanted to do. Perhaps if she was braver, or sharper-tongued like Nova, she might stand up to him and tell him exactly what she thought, or slip away in the night and brave the wilderness with three young children to look after, but the thought of either of those possibilities was as frightening to Ylva as whatever happened if she stayed here.
There was one thing she could do, however -- she could prepare the twins for what was to come, no matter how much it turned her stomach. It would be a tricky venture, for she had told them nothing of their true origins yet, and while she did not plan to touch on that, she might well be forced to.
“Quinnie, Jojo,” she called, softly so as not to wake Torsten. “Come here. Mama needs to talk to you.”
3; norwegian fjord; red dun pangare; 14hh
|
|