There is surprise in the tension of his body as Larka leans eagerly into the pale stallion’s touch. A small, weary smile ghosts along the corner’s of her ashen lips as she closes her eyes. Zevulun has become her anchor; her strength. When all around her the world grows feeble and strained, Larka has come to rely upon him as the cornerstone of her reality. As he had from the moment they met, the pale stallion does not try to overwhelm her with words or rush her into the realization that she longs to refuse. Instead, he merely waits. Patient… true… and alive.

Small, cupped ears fall backward amid the curling tumbles of her obsidian mane. thum…thum…thum… the rhythm of his heart is steady as the coursing river that flows sluggishly along the border of their prairie home. The warmth of his breath envelops her, securing the tethers to a reality she was not sure still needed her. thum…thum…thum… above even the distant screech of owls and the lullaby melody of the whip-poor-will, his beating heart fills her ears. He murmurs in her ear, his husky voice tender, even more so than she was used to. It was odd. Confusion flashes in her silver blue eyes for a moment as she draws her gaze up to his handsome face for clarity.

’I love you Larka.’ there is no confusion in the confession that falls from his lips as he gazes earnestly into her eyes, seeking his own answers. Answers that she has always been afraid to confess.

Shamwari had been her first true love. The handsome chestnut stallion had been her elder by several years when they first met but that had not stopped her attraction to him nor prepared her for his inevitable end. It was perhaps his last gift, his departure from the islands before the worst of age took its effects on his body and mind. Larka refused to see that, it was only the promise Darshan made that kept her sane and stable with the reminder that they had too many young foals that still needed guidance from their mothers.

Balor had been different. Though he inherited the herd Shamwari left behind, initially, Larka held nothing but contempt for the painted stallion. He had been kind and patient but altogether distant. It was not until Sitara’s birth that Larka found herself beginning to open up to the stallion. At what point their calm acceptance turned into something more akin to love, Larka did not think she would ever know. Perhaps it was the time that the pack of wolves had attacked and Balor fearlessly battled them alone. He had led the beasts far from their herd and days and weeks went by before his wounded figure made its slow reappearance. He had been her protector, her guardian. Learning of his demise had hurt, especially since she blamed herself for sending him in search of the long absent Darshan.

Darshan had been with her through everything. Though there was a time long ago when she felt jealous of the golden mare’s connection with Shamwari, Darshan never reacted to it and instead showed Larka that there was room in the chestnut stallion’s heart to hold them each in a special place. Here on these islands, there were no mated pairs, at least not in the common sense. Sure there were stallions and mares who preferred one another over all others but that was few and far between. Darshan had become her mate in a manner; her companion. Although they did not share blood, Larka felt closer to the mare of golden sands than she ever imagined she might have felt towards a sister. Having to watch the once proud mare ascend to a path that she could not follow, had shattered her heart and left her wondering what was left.

And yet, even then, Zevulun had been there. Like a silent guardian he watched over them when Balor disappeared and even brought them the news of the once great stallion’s demise. Always he had been gentle with her, offering her companionship when she was left without Darshan or Balor and guidance when needed. Zevulun had been there. Zevulun was here now.

As if a weight lifts from her shoulders, the reality awakens within her own heart. Thum…thum… thum. The rhythm with his own is the same. Despite the fluster of confusion in his explanation and promise to try and maintain the thin veil of platonic affection, Larka can feel it as easily as the changing of the winds. ”Zevulun….” she begins, blinking up at him from beneath the thick veil of dark lashes, ”I love you too.” she murmurs, the words falling far easier from her lips than she ever imagined that they would. How strange it was, the simple perfection of it.

She nestles closer to him still, tucking her finely dished head into the concave of his broad chest. ”I…I thought I would be truly alone when Darshan died.” she confesses, pausing a moment to exhale a shaking breath. ”I never realized… I… never…. noticed…” she stammers on, nuzzling his shoulder before taking a step back to bring her silver blue gaze once more to his handsome face. Swathed in moonlight, his pale features are alight in the silver blue light. ”I love you Zevulun. I do love you.”