Long seconds of silence tick by undisturbed as Solomon adjusts to the darkness, his breathing labored by both fear and anxiety. He told himself that his only purpose today was to make sure that she was safe. That no entrepreneurial predator had laid claim to her, nor threatened, nor harmed her. In truth, Solomon wasn't even entirely sure that Feray would have allowed herself to be captured by anyone else, considering she had soundly put him in his place the last time he had tried to coerce her back to the Cove. Feray was a Queen, and she had always carried herself in such a fashion around him. The thought of anyone forcing her to bow down or submit was ludicrous. And yet, despite what he told himself about his intentions, Solomon knew that discerning her wellbeing wasn't the only reason he had come.

Whether or not Feray wanted to acknowledge the connection between them, there was one. It kept her in his thoughts even when they were not together, and made him dream of the day that she would finally realize Roheryn was no match for her. It seemed so obvious to Solomon and yet she seemed to cling to the diminutive stallion, as though his posturing and preening were not empty fluff.

He had, perhaps foolishly, allowed himself to hope that their encounter on the Crossing had been the start of a new and greater future. That she might leave behind the old and embrace what he knew to be true, but that had not come to pass. As much as their time together had been enjoyable, Feray did not stay to linger after the act. She had fled from him the moment they were done, leaving him to wonder about her motives and her plans and her future. It hadn't occurred to him to worry about her safety as well until Roheryn bulldozed through the Cove screaming that Solomon had her.

As much as he wished it were true, it most certainly was not.

And even if it was, Solomon had already decided in the wake of his failed raid attempt that he would not force the speckled Badlands Queen to come to him or to stay with him. He would take Feray willingly, or not at all, even if waiting for her decision was its own sweet torture.

Solomon's breath stops the moment his glass-faced girl slides into view and his gaze rakes hungrily over the feminine shape of her body, searching for any sign of injury or wound. She is just as beautiful to him now as she has ever been, with the mahogany tendrils of her mane curling down the neck he had once pressed his lips against in wild abandon. To hear his name in her voice is velvet to his ears and the breath he'd held releases in a shaky gust. His green rises to try and match her blue and brown, but she looks away from him and he cannot tell if she shies away from him in shame or fear. The prospect of either makes his throat tight, and he stills the instinctive step that he takes toward her.

I- she starts, and he stays silent, willing her to give him some sort of indication of how she feels. If she hated him or loved him or wanted him gone. We ha- she tries again, but the words die before they reveal what she means and fear threads through his mind. Was she going to send him away?

It was possible that she wanted nothing to do with him. From what little information Solomon had of her relationship with Roheryn, he had come to understand that he and Feray's time together had caused irreversible damage. And while he had no sorrow for what had happened to Roheryn (in fact, more than a little satisfaction came from knowing that he was in pain), it now occurs to him that she was just as hurt by their separation. As much as it pained Solomon to acknowledge that she had feelings for the pony stallion, he could not deny the pain he saw on her face.

To know that he was the source of her unhappiness was a staggering blow that left him frozen in place.

He might have turned and left then, to cut his losses and staunch the bleeding he had caused. But her tears draw him back in, and as his brow clouds back over with concern, he cannot stop his hooves from closing the distance between them again. Heedless of the danger, he attempts to sidle against her to offer his support, and then to wrap his larger figure around hers in an embrace. If he could protect her by presence alone he would do so a thousand times over.

He does not know if she laments the loss of her relationship with Roheryn or if he alone was the source of her misery this morning. Solomon does not even know if she grieves for a lost child, as he does not see one with her, even though the milk-scent of a nursing mother clings to her skin. A pang of longing to meet the child that could be his stabs into his chest as his gaze squeezes shut. We were intimate, Solomon hears Roheryn say in his mind despite his attempt to push it aside. His or not, he would want to meet the baby. To let them know that they would always have him in their corner, even if they were Roheryn's child and not his own. Solomon dare not ask after them yet, not until he was certain that she would not fall into a million pieces at his hooves.

He says nothing for a long moment. Far too many words and emotions swirl in his mind for him to cleanly pick a single sentence from them, so he settles for simply being there instead. For staying against her for as long as she possibly needed, even though a part of him knew he would not leave the Forest with her at his side. Whatever it was that they shared, whatever this pull was that constantly oriented him back to her, it had never come easily to either one of them, and he was certain that it would not end in storybook happiness so quickly.

Eventually, Solomon stretches to brush his muzzle against her cheek if she will allow him, trying to say with actions what he could not put into words.

Solomon