LIKE THE RHYTHMN OF SNOW
And just as he had once before, Dances With Wolves found himself standing upon a misty shore, watching Rowena disappear beyond his sight. Despite the way his heart felt like it was falling to pieces (again), there was the faintest of silver glimmers at the edge of the storm that descended upon him. Rowena wouldn’t be alone. Walker was with her. Going off on their own search for Echo, while he stayed here, in the vain hope that she might find her way back to the forest.
Like Eastwise had.
At first, Dances had believed the scent to be a trick his mind was playing on him (it so enjoyed haunting him with all his past mistakes), but then, a few days later, as he’d trailed the borders of the Forest at dawn as was his daily routine, he’d seen the monochrome form of his grandson, wandering aimlessly across the plains of the Savanna. “East? Eastwise!” The call had only served to send the young stallion running, and with a heavy heart, Dances had watched him go.
Perhaps he should’ve given chase, but it was too late now. Still, he’d lingered longer at the border of the Savanna with each passing day, desperate for another glimpse of the boy, praying with all the faith left in him that Echo was okay. With a sigh, the bay paint stallion turned his back on the rolling grassy plains and meandered between the trees, seeking the very heart of the Forest. Loneliness was an old friend of his – the oldest in fact. It wasn’t the first time he’d been left behind, either. His mother, Guadalupe. Nephilim – the closest thing he’d ever had to a brother (and oh, how Dances had loved him). Rowena, who had pieced him back together and reminded him that he had worth.
He did not fault any of them for leaving. Only hoped that Rowena would forgive him.
With a sad little sigh, Dances found himself slowing as the roots beneath his hooves grew more pronounced and abundant. A snapping of a twig, movement in his peripheral vision had the lone male tensing in apprehension until a familiar scent carried to him on the whisper of a breeze that wound its way through the trees coaxed the corners of his lips into a smile. “Evren,” he said softly by way of greeting, shifting his posture and paying careful the placement of his hooves amongst the roots as he moved to meet her. “How are you this morning?” Often on his wanderings he saw the bay tobiano mare. They could’ve been siblings, for how similar they were in appearance, the way white patched both their bodies, two-toned manes tangled with leaves from their home.
Truth was, they couldn’t be more different.
Evren was strong, fearless.
And Dances…
“I was lingering where the Forest gives way to the Savanna. I was waiting… Hoping to see…” He trailed off, uncertain of himself as always. A moment of contemplation, and his blue eyes flicked back to meet Evren’s gaze. “I thought I saw my grandson there, but I can’t be sure.” A pause, more hesitation. “Been considering venturing over to find out if it was really him, but I wanted to speak to you first. Do you know who lives there now? It was quiet and empty for so long after the war.”
More silence, this time drawing out longer, and interspersed with the song of a distant bird. Dances felt himself drifting. “Sometimes it feels like everything changes so fast, but here, in the Forest, it’s safe and steady and still.” Again, his water-clear, ocean-deep eyes slid back to Evren. “Maybe that’s why I couldn’t leave, not even for…” Walker. Eastwise. Echo. Nephilim.
Rowena.
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