In much the same way she wonders if growing up in the shadow of a mountain must make it all the less impressive, Rhadra muses that Nereid’s comfort of the water must stem from a lifelong familiarity. Her own experiences of the world seem quite paltry in comparison: what is so fascinating about a gently sloping field, or a river that roars only under duress of a heavy rain or following the winter’s snowmelt? She has lived near meager stands of trees compared to the huge swaths of woodland running riot with colors here at the end of fall. And, standing here at the edge of the surf from which this pale mare emerges as if slipping out of the womb, Rhadra feels distinctly ordinary. A bore. Her home doesn’t even have a name that she is aware of, and yet every bit of land here has been graced with a deserving title.
“Oh, I’m not really from anywhere at all, I guess,” Rhadra stammers. “I mean. I’m not from here. As I said.” She clamps her lips shut for a moment to cease her babbling and gives her small head a frustrated shake before she tries again, turning the conversation away from herself until she can manage her self-consciousness. The one thing she had not anticipated on this adventure was the lack of constant social interaction. It has been intermittent for Rhadra: sometimes there are days at a time where she has no company but her own, and she has found that this prolonged solitude raises an instinctive panic within her. It makes her feel clumsy when she does come across company. It erodes her confidence and leaves her feeling ungrounded, as if she is foundering in the ocean and there is the constant risk of her head slipping beneath the waves. Had she known this would be a consequence, would she have left the mind-numbing routine of her old life?
The stark image of her slender sides compared to the heavy, round barrels of the other broodmares validates her decision. Better to be far away from all that, feeling lost, than be reminded with every passing glance that her womb is as barren as a desert. Rhadra draws in a deep breath and holds it for a moment before exhaling slowly, releasing these thoughts and inviting calm back in, encouraging her mind to let go, let go and be present. Rhadra repeats her controlled breathing, then focuses her gaze once more on the pale mare adorned with seaweed.
“Forgive me,” she says with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been out of my element for too long. I don’t have anything to me like the ocean is to you. I think your love for the water is far from silly; I think it’s marvelous.” She thinks of Kestral’s calming presence but resists glancing at the mountain range decorating the northern horizon. “What is Salem like?” |