She was right, of course, though Zevulun’s heart lurched at the sorrow returned to her voice. He should have known those were words he couldn’t and shouldn’t promise, no matter how much he swore he could feel the truth of the words in his bones. Even more, he should have known the troubles of promising such a thing to Larka, when she’d already lost so much from others who swore the same. Though Zevulun knew that he would not voluntarily leave this place - this chain of islands, and if he could help it, the Prairie would be where his bones one day rested when he was through - fate could rip all of that away in a heartbeat. His family had never intended to leave the islands, not entirely, and yet…

As Larka tucked in to him Zevulun sighed a gentle breath and smiled wistfully at the wish she asked of him instead.

Promise me instead that you will love me while you are here.

“That promise is all too easy to make,” he assured her in hushed, warm tones as he let himself soak in the feeling of her breaths sinking into his skin. Despite the hardships the Prairie herd had faced, it was moments like this that reminded Zevulun why he was doing what he was doing at all. This was why he worked to be a leader, even during times where he felt he was doing everything backwards in comparison to everyone else and the way they led. Eventually he and Larka would need to break apart and duties would pull him from her side, but for this moment, time stood still and the world belonged to them.

“I will love you for as long as I am here, Larka.” He reiterated, wanting to give the promise his voice, and privately in his mind he swore to himself he would do all he could to make that the rest of forever.