Meadow

He had forgotten how much he missioned the rush, the hum of adrenaline through his system was a heady thing that had the ability to run away like a freight train if left unchecked. It is one of the reasons he had worked so hard over so many years to quell the beast, dwelling in apathy and remorse were safer for everyone as far as he was concerned. Yet she had rekindled that fire, allowed him to bathe in its familiar warmth like a reformed junkie relapsing. Only his years of well-formed self control allowed him to harness the beast once that initial chase had ended, to subdue at least mostly those impulses and urges that so lingered at the edges of his conscious. The mixture of her impetuous reply and the danger of the impending storm nailed closed that door for now at least. Instead he caved to those safer impulses, ones he had also repressed until now, to take on the mantle of protector even as it pertained to a veritable stranger.

The broadness of his body provided an ample shield for the wind to break against so it would not buffet her as badly, its sting lessened against his thick flesh and shagginess of his ample winter coat. The cold was still seeping into him though, and he could not deny its chilling fingers creeping towards his very bones. His inquiry regarding her brother was as much to distract himself as it was her, there was a gift in anonymity to receive others burdens with little to no repercussions. What he did not expect was her flaxen body to press up against him, though as her shared warmth spread over him he could not deny getting pleasure from it on a range of levels. He huffed softly but made no other move as it seemed she drew some strength from that connection as well, her soft voice beginning her tale. One he could relate to on certain points there was no denying.

He remained quiet throughout her narrative, a statuesque bystander to the heart of her pain and grief. Even as her face rose towards his mottled ears, close enough that her breath tickled the sensitive hairs there. It could have been construed as romantic to an outsider, but it was purely two strangers taking shelter in each other and not just from the snow laden wind that whirled around them. A piece of his heart broke quietly for her, just another piece falling to the floor of his soul as he was no stranger to regret and guilt even when it was not deserved. He gave her time which they had in spades due to their current predicament, making no move as she burrowed beneath the ample coverage of his mane. There was nothing he could say or do to ease her pain he knew for he had felt its mirror himself, and yet he could not keep himself from trying. “Ya loved him, but you did not make up his mind for him.” His voice rumbled too loudly in the secluded bubble in which the storm had encapsulated them. “It was his choice to follow you. His choice to attempt the journey.”

Pausing he shuddered a deep breath, restraining all the self-reflection this was attempting to dredge up from the recesses of his mind. “Ya say he was weak of body, but from your story I don’t believe him so weak of mind as to not make his own decisions.” At the end of the day they were each responsible only for their own choices and not those of others, and that was where his guilt lay. His actions had directly cause pain of many sorts to those he cared about. But this was not about him, and he focused on doing what little he could while he had the chance for this stranger instead. Arching his thick neck he placed his spotted muzzle gently against her cheek, his warm breath a balm in the heart of this frozen storm.