A single step. In a single step, so much has changed that the blanketed mare feels disoriented. Even the familiar edge of her fear is different from only seconds ago; no longer a sharp stab but a deep and constant ache. Viđarr is everywhere— in the stale warmth of the air she breathes, in the inky darkness that is all she can see— and his immediacy is terrifying. It’s terrifying because she is finally starting to grasp how deeply this stranger has rooted himself into the soil of her heart. It’s terrifying because— because somehow, he’s becoming the center of her world. And in her short life, Lanfear has learned that love and loss walk hand in hand. That anything gained is inevitably lost.
She won’t survive losing him. She can’t.
Whether the shadow can hear her thoughts of has misread the trembles of her obsidian coat, his vow weaves soft but strong into the wintry air. I’ll keep you safe, Käraste. Punctuated by the thundering rhythm of his heart, somehow these words manage to soothe her. Not because Lanfear believes that he can fight the fates, but because— for now— perhaps it doesn’t need to matter. One way or another she will lose him, but for now he is hers and she is his. And whether this moment lasts hours or days or seasons, it can’t be undone. When solitude claims her again, the fierce woman will still have this memory to cling to, just as she remembers the warmth and security she’d once felt at her mother’s side. Things she’d never thought she’d find again, but… well, here she is. No, here they are.
A quiet, wordless hum surrounds the mare, and she listens curiously, breathlessly. Lanfear has never felt the desire to learn speech before, but this— this is different. This makes her throat feel tight and her chest swell with emotions she can’t begin to describe, let alone express. Pressing her face even harder into the curve of the stallion’s neck, she exhaled gently into the coal-black skin and felt it quiver in response, then vibrate with his whispered words. I’ll keep you safe if you let me. Though the words are no different, this time they sound less like a promise and more like a plea. As if the shadow is seeking permission to claim her. As if he is somehow unaware that he already has; that gravity has bound her to his side.
Without words Lanfear can’t explain these things, but she can still answer. Pulling slowly out from beneath the shelter of the taller male’s body, she studies him for a moment with soft dark eyes. Then she stretches up to brush her whiskered muzzle across his, her ears lifting from the tangles of her mane to point loosely forward. In as much as she can say without words, she is accepting his promise to protect her, and offering her forgiveness in return.
And for as long as both might last, she is his.
