VaLkA

mare / six / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

The skjaldmær was too aware of her home and those under her protection to miss the buckskin stallion’s return - but she did not seek Goose out as she might have in the past.

Instead, Valka had studiously avoided the large stallion, preferring the isolation of her solitude over the confused tangle of emotions that she felt. Betrayal was prominent, sitting in her belly like a coal that flared back into heated life when she considered Cullen, and the Lagoon, and…and... Shame often followed to douse this flame, because in her heart the stocky chestnut recognized that she had betrayed Goose, too. Not by choice, perhaps, but in weakness - in failing to protect the family he’d built for himself here in the Bay. In her heart, Valka understood how unfair it was to judge the Vanner for the trust that she had broken, and the decisions that he’d felt obligated to make in turn. But it was not easy to forgive him, even when the Yakutian mare had faced her own flaws and accepted her own failures.

Not when he’d a willing part in aiding their hated enemy.

Valka understood that the situation without Goose could not be avoided forever. But she delayed the moment of their confrontation for as long as possible, fearing the recrimination that she might see in the tobiano’s eyes. And she was equally afraid that Goose would see the reluctance in her own dark gaze - the wariness that had not been present since they’d faced one another as enemies. She still respected and cared for the larger stallion, but the camaraderie that they’d once shared was darkened and twisted by the trials they’d suffered. Only time and honesty could hope to heal it - but to accomplish even that would require a degree of vulnerability that Valka was not certain she was capable of. Could she stand before her old companion and bare her heart for the sake of their friendship?

The shaggy red woman didn’t know. And though the question occupied her thoughts often, the answer still evaded her when Goose’s call indicated that her time had run out.

Spring had already arrived amidst the colorful burst of wildflowers, but warmth was still a relative term in the tundric climate of Tinuvel. It was a dreary sort of day, with a grey shroud of clouds blotting out the sun and preventing its warmth from reaching the subarctic climate below. Abandoning her post at the Bay’s stony shore to travel inland, the skjaldmær’s breath formed vaporous plumes in the air each time she exhaled, and a layer of frost still rimed the ground. It caused the brittle blades of grass to crunch loudly beneath even her smaller hooves - and announcing the small mare’s approach long before her voice broke the silence to greet the buckskin stallion.

“Goose,” she began simply, inclining her head and tilting her small ears toward the golden figure. It was only in the uncomfortable seconds of silence that follow that Valka extended her muzzle in the customary greeting, the language of her body stiff and stilted. And then - abruptly and unexpectedly - the Yakut relaxed into the familiar warmth of his large body, settling in to stand beside her old friend as if the seasons of separation had never happened. Cocking one hind leg and gazing off into the distance through half-lidded eyes that may or may not have held the faintest shimmer of tears. Because no matter what had occurred between them, the pony-sized creature still thought of Goose as family; as a brother to replace the countless she’d lost. And no matter what might await them in their futures, she understood now that it was one truth that could never change.

“How are son and mate?” Valka asked casually and companionably, turning one ear to catch whatever words the stallion offered in response.