VaLkA

mare / six / chestnut pangare / yakut / 13.0 hh

For a few moments, Valka entertained the notion of returning to the carefree days of camaraderie she’d shared with the tobiano mare. A part of her was even convinced that there wasn’t much she wouldn’t give for the sake of shedding the burdens she bore and sharing a home with Medusa again. But as the Inlet’s queen spoke of her own obligations and the impossibility of such a choice, the skjaldmær knew that she was right. And it was this grounding truth that helped the stocky chestnut to discover the one sacrifice she was unwilling to make—the deeper bond that had developed between the pair, even in spite of the physical distance that now divided them. Seasons ago, Medusa’s companionship and training had provided the Yakut with an escape from the trials of living.

And now? Now, she was someone with whom Valka could share them.

Perhaps it was the giddy relief that came in the wake of recognizing that her existence did not need to be solitary. Or perhaps it was a desire to demonstrate that her own support was just as resolute, and her own devotion just as deep. Whatever the reason, the Bay’s protector stepped forward to erase the distance that she’d put between herself and Medusa only moments before. And while she made no attempt to embrace the other mare, Valka did stand beside her in solidarity—and even ventured to brush wayward tendrils of the black mane back into place in a surprisingly tender gesture. “Duty is never easy,” the red woman offered, her soft voice carrying the implication of a shrug. “But with time you will go stronger to bear the weight—as you already have.”

Valka knew that she had also risen to meet challenges that she would not have been capable of overcoming seasons ago. And she understood that a portion of her newfound strength came from the emotions that her bonds with various individuals—Goose, Medusa, Solvarr, and even Solomon—invoked in her. This theme occupied her thoughts when she spoke again, striving to express emotions that were beyond the language she possessed. “And you will always have Valka here, if you need. Just say word and I will come. For you, I will kick any butts that need—with greatest pleasure if butt belongs to Ironclad.” Feeling the iron grasp she’d kept on her emotions slipping, the chestnut mare added the last statement to steer the direction of the conversation back to lighter topics. Love had changed Valka, and she was no longer carved from stone. Instead, she felt reborn; the hard unyielding nature of her character softened into clay. Yet she could not help but to fear the fragility that accompanied ties that transcended what was necessary for survival’s sake and developed into something more.

The softer she was, the easier it became for another to break her.