PERSEPHONE

Emptiness. That was the feeling that had swamped Persephone since the argument. The Forest felt quiet and empty without her, but worse still was the way that emptiness had curled itself up around her heart – the way it chilled her from the inside out, the way it left her feeling numb and like her head was underwater. No matter how long or how hard she swam, she could not seem to find the surface.

Although it was unlike her, she allowed herself the sick pleasure of wallowing.

She stood there, beneath the dark sky, purple and swollen with storm clouds, and let the rain swallow her up. There were plenty of places to shelter in the Forest, where the canopy above was thick enough to lessen the sting of even such a deluge, but Persephone chose to stand there in a clearing, allowing the storm to soak her. The rain lashed against her skin, sharp and icy, but she did not flinch from the skyward flagellation. She stood there, eyes closed, until rivulets raced down her speckled sides.

It was hard to tell, inside her troubled mind, whether minutes had passed or hours. She was just about to reluctantly force her frozen joints to move and seek better shelter when the screams started. Her ears flew forwards, even heavy as they were beneath the weight of her wet hair, and her head snapped towards the direction of the sound.

Persephone had never heard quite that sound before – that primal, animalistic tangle of pain and fear – but there was enough in it that she recognised it immediately, some sickening sense in her gut identifying it even before her brain could.

Evren.

Suddenly, her legs were no longer cold and stiff, and in one split second she felt her head finally break the surface of the water she had been trapped under for weeks. She felt herself gasp for air, and she ran to her.

The smell was the first thing that hit her as she neared the small thicket. The scent of blood hung in the air, heavy and thick with a metallic foreboding. Persephone forced her way through the thick undergrowth and must have emerged looking like hell. Mud caked her legs and underbelly where she had kicked it up from the wet ground; her body and hair were soaked and dripping with rainwater; and here and there a small nick in her skin pricked with blood where she had pushed past thorny plants and sharp brambles carelessly in her hurry. The scene before her, however, was more hellish still.

Evren lay flat out on the ground. The swollen heft of her belly stood out against the earth – she had been so much smaller the last time Persephone had seen her. Her head was pressed against the wet moss, her face screwed up in pain and panic. The foal had started to come, but it was not out yet. She was struggling. The rain was a little softer here, protected by the trees above, but the storm was so wild that the scene was still sodden – even so, there was not enough rain to wash away the dark stain of blood that Persephone could see beneath her.

It looked like more than was normal. It smelled like more than was normal.

As she stood there, looking down at the woman she loved, she realised she had a decision to make. Twin flames inside her curled and danced around each other, fighting for dominance – one hot with the flashing pain and anger of betrayal and dishonesty, the other searing with the passion and love that is built over long, slow years. Her nostrils flared and her sides heaved, struggling to take in enough air, and not only because of the way she had run here. Her jaw was clenched hard, every muscle in her body felt like it had been twisted tightly in on itself. She felt her eyes prick and begin to sting.

Those couple of seconds seemed to stretch out forever. And then she chose.

“Evren,” she breathed, struggling to push down the fear that bubbled up like acid in her throat.

She choked it back and shook her head. In that moment, she gathered her emotions – all the resentment and the anger and the upset and the confusion that had plagued her – and she pushed them down. She made them into iron and steel and sunk them deep inside herself, far away from this moment. She left only what was there before, and that was the woman she could not lose. She had to try.

“Evren listen to me.”

Her voice was stronger now, reinforced by determination, although it still retained a trace of the tremble of adrenaline. Persephone closed the gap between them, and lowered her head to Evren’s. Her dark eyes searched that familiar face, trying to make contact.

“You can’t stop now,” she urged, only inches between their faces. “You can’t stop. We have to keep going.”

all of your demons will wither away

mixed, bay varnish roan, 14.3hh