Rivaini

There was a certain magic in the moment of their reunion; a sense of completeness in having Faolain so near to her. But as the silver bay listened attentively to her friend’s musings, she could also feel the truths that remained unspoken standing between them. They formed a shadow that darkened the soft glow of Rivaini’s happiness; a darkness that left her on edge despite the determined ease with which she faced the ‘Teke. “For all we know, they may not have migrated at all before our arrival here. Perhaps they fled not from the heat, but from my brother and those fillies he runs wild with.” The tobiano laughed, though the warmth of the sound didn’t quite touch her eyes. No, those pale windows never failed to reflect what she truly felt - as determinedly as Rivaini might seek to conceal it.

She was still hurting, and in her pain wondered whether this was the moment that she might lose the last solace that remained to her.

Too aware of every moment of silence - and the dangers that they might pose - Rivaini hastened to fill them in with words, however meaningless those words might be. Inane chatter had always annoyed her, but it was certainly preferable to the sort of proclamation that Çiçek had made. In other words: perhaps, if she kept talking, Faolain might never find the opportunity to leave. “If I had to guess, I would venture that they visit Atlantis from every island that experiences winter. We’ve both been to the Crossing, and I recognized some of the same birds that we saw there. But there were some unfamiliar ones as well, perhaps from Luthien or Tinuvel.” She had never seen either of these islands, and until recently had never desired to. But if there was one benefit to darkness, it was that it left those who endured it seeking every possible avenue back to the light. In her youth, the silver-haired mare had always longed to see the world, but had felt shackled to her brother’s side. Now, with the Ridge to return to - and Faolain to watch over the perlino stallion in her absence - the world was open to her, and the old hunger returned.

The hollow chamber in her heart begged to be filled - and even if she searched the entire world and never found the answer, motion was still infinitely more bearable than stillness. Of course, these were primarily errant thoughts, to be pursued another day. Right now - even with the heavy burden of her grief - there was still nowhere else that Rivaini would choose to be than at her dark companion’s side. Even if she struggled to find anything to say beyond the words that she would not - could not - dare to venture. “It’s certainly quieter here without them, and I thought that I would enjoy the peace that their absence brings. But instead, I find myself missing the music of the voices, and the sight of their small bodies flitting through the canopy.” She gazed wistfully at the blank stretch of blue sky above them, as if hoping to see the asymmetrical V formations that indicated their return. “Not so much the messes, though. The beach is more beautiful for the lack of disemboweled shellfish and shed feathers.”

Intertwined with the silver threads of her forelock, the small golden feather that Çiçek had placed there fluttered as if in feeble protest. What it could not realize - and that Faolain might - was that it wasn’t the birds that Rivaini missed so much as the golden mare whose presence here had been just as fleeting. Stubborn creature as she was, the silver bay would never openly admit to the truth - that much of the reluctance or indignation she’d displayed in the dunalino’s company had been an act. Of course, even Rivaini hadn’t known just how deep the river of her feelings for Çiçek had run.

Not until it was too late to let them go, anyway.

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