The aftermath of a war is a strange thing. Normality returns in dribs and drabs, first with silence, then with birdsong and all the usual ambient forest noises. Sunlight chases away the dark, laughter comes more easily, and the wind and waves carry away all the signs that there had ever been a conflict at all. But its effects remain heavy and tangible in every mind. Life must go on, but so must the dead and missing be counted, the wounded cared for, and mental scars given time to heal.
Evren finds it is a gross paradox to go about everyday life - whether that’s patrolling the borders, eating enough for two, or caring for her yearling daughter - when so many have been hurt or lost. Yet, as a heavily pregnant mare, she can do nothing but help Persephone guard the remaining herd and raise their daughters, as well as hope that Tarek’s search for Indira, Hannah, and the others is fruitful. Feeling so helpless is a thorn in her side, and every night she goes to sleep with fresh guilt on her mind. Perhaps when her and Persephone’s children are born, they can take it in turns to form more search parties.
Evren is due any day now, and the weight of her foal in her abdomen is draining, even moreso than it had been with Arkana. She has settled into a quiet clearing after her evening patrol, with the gentle sounds of the herd nearby but unobtrusive. Her eyelids are heavy and her knees ache as she snatches a quick dinner of lush spring grass, but before she can sink to the earth for a much-needed rest, there’s the rustle of an approach through the trees. Evren would recognize the sound of Persephone’s step anywhere, and her tired eyes take on a gleam of alertness as the forest matriarch appears through the gloom of twilight.
Her nostrils flare to let out a contented exhale as Persephone greets her. She hasn’t had the time or mental energy to dwell on the realization she’d had before the war had broken out, but neither have she or Persephone had the time or mental energy to spend any significant amount of time together since then. Now that they are alone finally, Evren can feel that charged energy returning to the air: the kind of energy that reminds her just what she has been holding close to her heart, and what she must find the right moment in which to share.
“Exhausted,” Evren replies honestly, her voice a little hoarse. “I can’t wait until this kid drops. How are you, Sephy?” Evren tilts her head, eyes dropping to slide over Persephone’s swollen belly, lingering on a few marks that might be scars from the war, then finding her face again, bathed in the soft lavender light of dusk. Both of them were lucky to escape any serious injury during the war, but after everything that’s happened, Evren has fallen into an unthinking habit of visually checking over Persephone each time she sees her.
11; mutt; bay tobiano; 15.3hh |
