All over, every day, Evren aches. Her first grandchild is gone, spirited away to the Badlands to be raised by another mare. Aysu will never know her true mother; nor will she know a childhood in the Forest as Arkana and the other girls had. She will not frolic beneath the shade of the trees, or witness the golds and reds of the changing seasons; she will not experience the beauty of a Luthien snow or the first blossoms of spring. Evren will not hear her laughter as she races along the well-worn paths, or see her first baby teeth grow in. She will not know what Aysu thinks about on a day-to-day basis, what makes her laugh, or what makes her cry.
Her granddaughter will be a stranger to her.
It's some small reassurance, at least, that Aysu will remain in the care of family. The revelation that Feray is, in fact, a long-lost half-sister of Evren's had been cause for delight, and knowing that Evren can visit them at any time has helped blunt the sting some. Still, it had wrenched her heart to watch them turn their back on the Forest and brave the roiling gray waves of the ocean. No matter how many times Evren is forced to say goodbye to a family member - whether temporarily or permanently - it never grows any easier.
As she strolls through the Forest one spring morning, mindlessly patrolling the trails, she finds her mood particularly low: a result of having entertained the thought of what she might have named Aysu had she been able to adopt the girl herself. She ponders the name Indra, inspired by her sister, Indira, but thinking of Indira is like stacking a heavy weight on top of an even heavier one, and Evren is forced to stop in her tracks to collect herself. She stares blankly at a burst of tiny white flowers, steadying her breath, and then continues on.
"Evren," a voice says, nearly scaring her out of her skin. She lifts her head to see Dances approach through the trees, and offers him a sheepish smile. It's not often they get a chance to speak; Dances has largely kept to himself and his small family during his time in the Forest, but Evren has always appreciated his quiet, good-natured presence. With Rowena and Walker having departed, however, she's noticed the stallion has been at a bit of a loose end: something she can relate to. Indeed, they might as well be mirror images of each other in that moment, with their strikingly similar coloring and the solemn, faraway glaze to their eyes.
"Hello, Dances," Evren says, her tone a little more somber than usual, but not unfriendly. "I'm all right, and you?" she asks, and in answer the stallion explains what has been troubling him. Evren's heart thumps with empathy. A missing grandchild: that, too, she can relate to. "Persephone and I haven't been over to investigate yet, but my daughter tells me a stallion called Fearghas lives there with a small herd, and that he seems friendly. If you want to go check things out, I don't think there's anything to be afraid of."
A contemplative silence passes between them, broken only by the distant melody of a single bird. Evren shifts, feeling slightly awkward until Dances breaks the silence again. She nods, her expression cool and calm, but inwardly she's suddenly aware of the fragility of this moment, for she cannot remember a time, if ever, that Dances opened up to her like this. She must tread lightly, lest she ruin it. Careful thought is still not something that comes easily to her, however, so it's with some difficulty she forces herself to pause and think before she speaks.
Even still, she's unsure if what comes out of her mouth next is really the right thing at all.
"Why don't you? Go after them, I mean," she says. "You're always welcome here, but I don't want you to feel indebted to us, Dances. Your happiness with your family is more important. Unless..." she pauses a moment and a little wrinkle of concern appears between her copper eyes. "Did something... happen between you and Rowena, Dances? Is everything okay?"