“I missed you too,” he hummed warmly and happily under his breath, a chuckle chasing his words as comfortably pushed his warm weight back into their dark and light speckled daughter, his whiskered lips grabbing her forelock and giving it a light tug. He loved Claret as he loved all his children, but there was a precious sort of kindness and warmth in her that he cherished and hoped he would never see the world try and break. It radiated from her, bright in her eyes. Zevulun gently kissed her cheek, then glanced at Riesling.
A colt. Castillon. It was a strong name, a good name. Zevulun’s blue eyes dropped down to the gold and black colt tucked behind his mother’s shoulder and he grinned. “Don’t pretend at being shy,” Riesling’s scold drew their son’s dark eyes up to her and away from where they’d widely been watching Zevulun, “Greet your father; there’s nothing to fear from him.”
Castillon hesitated only for the very briefest of seconds – this was his first time seeing another big horse that was not Mother or Sister, and though his curiosity swelled greater and greater with each day he grew older, it was one thing to think excitedly about meeting a new horse and another to actually do so. But when Mother told Castillon to do something he knew to do it, and the soft bite in the underbelly of her tone made him lift his head and push out his narrow, bony chest. He was told not to fear his father, so he wouldn’t. Even with so little experience in life, Castillon was already learning how to take his panic and smother it down deep inside him, so far down it wouldn’t even show across his face. The colt marched forward with his ink-black legs, lifting his knees high as he went around his mother and walked directly up to his father. He held his chin high.
Zevulun grinned, slowly lowering his head and breathing soft bittersweet grass breaths over Castillon’s face. Castillon regarded him with eyes grown curious, tapping his velvet muzzle against his father’s cheek and down his thickly muscled neck. Zevulun played tenderly with the upright wisps of Castillon’s mane, lips gently tugging the fine baby hair. The colt snorted and pulled his head away ruefully, then clacked his nonexistent teeth briefly after.
Reisling answered him, Zevulun’s gaze now on her instead of their children, even as Castillon decided to walk around his father and inspect the largeness of him, and the paleness too. Mother and Sister were not pale, and Castillon found it somewhat fascinating.
Zevulun frowned as she admitted the labor wasn’t her most difficult. He couldn’t remember her having a foal by her side when he arrived… Her brother’s words echoed briefly in his mind: She got our mother and siblings out of a deadly situation and safely to me, at… great harm to herself. Another thought briefly rose up in his mind, thinking of her assumption that had lead to Claret’s conception. An uneasy feeling stirred inside him, and he wanted to reach out again, touch her softly, offer some kindness to offset all the pain – physical and mental – she’d had to put herself through just to survive. But Riesling has put a cushion of distance between them (like she always did) and he knew better than to try it.
Castillon had wound his way around his father’s rump, and the soft weight of a clumsy foal behind him made his gaze roll briefly back, head turning to watch as the colt played in the long strands of his pale white mane. He smiled briefly-
“I want to visit Rafe. As soon as Castillon can make the swim, the three of us will go to the Badlands.”
His gaze snapped like a rubber-band quickly to her face. Castillon also lifted his head, peering at Mother because he’d heard his name, long strands of his father’s tail hanging all over his face and down his neck. Zevulun fought through the unease that rolled through the pit of his stomach. He still wasn’t certain what to make of Rafe and even less-so knowing his attachment to Riesling. What if the silver-tongued stallion convinced her to leave him? Too, he knew Rafe was privy to know his sister better than Zevulun ever could, and a small pinch of jealousy prickled under his skin.
But Zevulun would never keep them apart, even if allowing it brought his downfall. He had seen the happiness that had overcome her when she’d first seen her brother and Zevulun would never keep that happiness from her, no matter what it meant for him.
“I’m not asking. I need to see him.”
Zevulun’s ears flicked back, irritated by her tone, but he only said, “Alright, we’ll go when Castillon can make the swim.” And he swallowed away the disquiet rising inside him.
Castillon snorted and trotted a few steps from Zevulun’s hind, Zevulun’s tail dragging lightly over his body before they fell away. Zevulun flicked the strands briefly, as though he needed to settle them against his hind again and watched Castillon as the colt moved on to pester his sister.
“He’s strong, it probably won’t be too long before we can go.” He commented, looking the colt over and seeing how confidently he moved. Zevulun wasn’t sure exactly why he even wanted to assure her that she wouldn’t need to wait too long before she could see her brother. Maybe he was hoping that rigid outside of hers might crack, the more she saw he didn’t want to deny her things, not even visiting with her too-clever brother. He knew he was a fool.
|
