The thin stallion pulled himself ashore the sands of Salem, shivering and gasping for breath. He had not intended to come to this southernmost island, but in his haste to depart the frigid climes of the Bay, Nuka’d gone and got himself caught in a fiercely strong current. He’d tried desperately to make it to the Ruins, but he’d been unable to break free. Maybe it was for the best, because, no doubt, if he’d managed to scramble up the broken rocky shelf, he’d just stew in misery and be unable to escape the past. Last time he’d been here, he’d had nothing to lose. It was the first time he hadn’t felt alone. It was how he and Svenja had met. And when he’d left, he’d found Tabaxi.
But they were both far away from him now; Tabaxi had been spirited away by the wind, it felt like, and Svenja had gone home. She had a family there, or, she would, any day now. And Nuka - he regretted ever having gone looking for her. (Who was he, to disrupt what happiness she’d managed to find? More than anything, that’s all Nuka wanted for her, after all she had lost.) But he could not deny his heart had beat faster at the sight of her.
The warmth of the sun quickly chased the chill from his bones, alleviating some of the aching, but rather than be grateful for this small respite, the sable stallion already disliked the island. There was a reason, beyond his aversion of travelling any distance, that he had not made the short swim from the Crossing on the other side of the channel. It wasn’t only that he’d feared Tabaxi’s family might be somewhere here. It was because he’d been born somewhere like this, and the way the sand whisked up by the wind stung his skin reminded him of everything he wished he could forget.
The desert stretched before him, empty of life, and so there seemed little to fear as the ragged loner dragged his hooves through the sand in search of shelter. He knew well enough how dangerous it could be to be caught in the scorching midday sun. Water could often be harder to find than shade, but, once dusk fell, he’d have plenty of time to slake his thirst without risk of being overcome by the heat. A tired sigh of deep relief was expelled when the shimmering outcrop on the horizon only became more defined as Nuka drew closer, instead of fading into nothing.
And yet, when he came to an abrupt halt in the mouth of the cave, the scarred brown stallion wished he’d never come here (as fiercely as he wished he’d never set foot on that beach in the Bay). He hastily stumbled back and away, away from that tiny, sleeping form that appeared to be abandoned. With the toss of his head, Nuka turned and limped away, trying to pretend he hadn’t seen anything in that cave, determined to forget. But, he barely managed a dozen steps before he stopped, hesitated, turned around.
They fought briefly then, his head and his heart.
In the end, his heart would always win, because even though it was weak and wounded, it could never turn aside from those who were lost or helpless, like he was, like he had been. In a desperate attempt to draw out the mother, if she were still nearby, Nuka let loose a call, the raw, ragged sound carrying across the flat and arid land. Tempted as he was to wait for a mare to show, for he wasn’t keen on being caught by a protective mother who might have strayed a little far, but at the same time, there was a high chance his cry had woken the tiny little foal, and Nuka didn’t want it to be alone a moment longer.
With light, tentative steps, he crept into the darkness, knowing even as he did that… That, when he left this cave, he would not be the same. If the mother did not return, and no others responded to his call… For all his flaws and failings, Nuka couldn’t bear to leave a child to suffer a lonely and terrible death.
But then, as his blue-grey eyes adjusted to the gloom and he saw the filly properly, his head and his heart, they fought bitterly. Logic said to keep his distance, because to get any closer would only invite trouble. It’d put him right in the sights of the mother, if she returned - an unknown stallion far too close to her newborn filly. And it’d set him up for fresh heartbreak, if no-one else came; someone far better than him, and far more capable of helping the abandoned girl.
Still, the moment he began to piece things together, he couldn’t help but reach to tenderly brush his muzzle across the tips of the weak, weary filly’s ears. “Hey there, little one. Don’ worry none, ‘kay. S’okay,” he murmured, his voice breaking as he lowered himself to his knees beside her, wincing with the effort. And there, tucked alongside the frail little figure, whom he would gently help shift into a more comfortable position if the filly showed signs of malaise, somehow, despite everything, Nuka’s heart felt lighter than it had in days. He knew it wouldn’t last long at all, but he'd treasure it while it lasted. For her sake, more than his own. No matter how this turned out in the end, Nuka wouldn’t forget the tiny little red girl. She deserved more than anything he could do for her. And she most certainly didn’t deserve what’d been dealt to her.
“S’okay, shh, you jus’ rest by me now,” he whispered, quiet and low in the girl’s ear. “Y’wan’ ta know a secret? One a my legs don’ work so good either.” And he lay his own head down beside her, closing his eyes to try and keep the tears that blinded him from falling. They trickled down his cheeks, to soak into the earth still damp from the filly’s own despair. Nuka didn’t know anything about her, except that it seemed she had no-one else, just like he had no-one else. And no matter what… He would remember her, always.
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