Meadow

Rivaini

Apathy fought to reclaim Rivaini in the moments of silence that followed the spotted stallion's admonishment. She had no response to give her companion, would offer no excuses or apologies to placate him. Like Bondurant, the silver bay believed that she had done the right thing - like him, her convictions were too strong to be toppled by another's words. And for an instant they stood facing each other an an impasse - their bright gazes unwavering, their starkly constrated figures unmoving. It was the stallion who broke first, glancing into the maw of the storm without a hint of the fear that Rivaini felt - and buried deep within herself.

It was only recently that she had discovered the brevity of life - and realized her own mortality. And like many of the young who have brushed skin with death, the young mare was terror-stricken at even the memory of the abyss that had yawned before her. There was no-one in this world who could tell the living what awaited them at the bottom of this chasm - and, knowing nothing, Rivaini assumed that there was nothing. It was this emptiness she feared more than anything else; more than the pain she might experience in the process of dying, more than the sorrows of any loved ones she might leave behind. And certainly more than the perils of living.

Life had become a series of trials and tangled emotions - but it was still something.

Bondurant began to move closer, and for a heartbeat the bay mare fought the inexplicable instinct to strike out with hooves and teeth. It was no longer Rivaini's safety that concerned her, but the intimacy that they faced as two creatures huddled together for warmth and security in the face of the storm. She sensed within herself that the closeness would not end with the physical - that in the manner of their kind, they would share thoughts and emotions along with touch. And the Andalusian mare would sooner have braved the cold and the snow on her own than face the pieces of herself that she knew Bondurant would bring forth.

Tell me about your brother.

Rivaini noticed dimly that the blasting of the wind had eased, though in its absence it seemed that she felt the cold more keenly. Sinking into the warm wall of Bondurant's side with a resigned sigh, the young mare began to speak in spite of herself. It was the least that she could offer to the stranger who had somehow become her protector. "His name was Iscariot. He had such a gentle heart - pure, selfless, loving - that I couldn't help but to try and protect it. To protect him." According to their sire, Iscariot was everything that she should have been - and his greatest desire was to have a son like Rivaini, full of spirit and fire and fight.

It was a shame that her father would never know what he'd lost - and that she would live forever with the knowledge. Together, the silver bay and her brother had been unstoppable.

"My father never thought he was worthy," She continued after a pause, during which she'd lifted her muzzle so that her lips were nearer the spotted stallion's ears. The screaming of the wind was deafening, and the rapidly moving air threatened to hurl her words away into the swirling vortex of snow. "But we weren't worthy of him. Physical strength - that's something that can be built on, even in those who are almost entirely lacking. But you can't build a soul that is good and true."

A deep breath, the curious tickle of tears freezing to her russet cheek. Rivaini didn't want to continue, but the tide of grief had risen inexorably within her, and would not permit the silence she yearned for. "And his death... my fault. I knew that his life was in danger, but I could have gone to the elders, I could have fought for him. But I wanted more, I wanted adventure. I wanted freedom. I convinced him - and myself - that it would be safest to leave. But his legs were weak... they had always been weak. I should have known that he couldn't hope to survive the swim."

The tide had risen over her, and Rivaini could speak no longer. Instead she withdrew her muzzle, and buried her face in the shadowy curtain of Bondurant's mane as if she believed she could hide from the truth.

mare / five / silver bay tobiano / andalusian mix / 15.3hh