When Maziel made the promise to take Charmeine and Parisa to the Arch to see Mariael, she had absolutely meant it. Yet the quiet that had settled across the Bay was ripped away almost instantly, leaving Maziel too fearful to take Fell away from the herd for even half of a day. She tucked her daughters close, remained near the others of the herd and refused to stray too far even as they wandered the territory throughout the day, seeking shelter from the worsening weather and food, which was growing scarcer. Parisa, as bold as she was loud (both), kept Maziel plenty occupied with trying to keep her daughter safe.
Perhaps, too, even though it had been a singular occurrence, the memory of the brutish stallion who had come for her and Charmeine stayed ever present in her mind, especially as others trespassed onto the Bay soil to do the same. Were these attacks targeted? What was to say a sneaking territory lead would not see her tending to Parisa away from the herd and know she was an easy target to push away due to her disability? Maziel knew, too, the closer they pushed her to the shore the more panicked she would become. The ocean was such a terrifying thing to her now, she didn’t think she could ever bear to swim again.
Even when the herd drew closer to the long stretch of shoreline their home was made of, Maziel preferred to remain as far tucked inland as she could. The days the sea churned angrily and she could hear those waters slap the sand with vigor sent a chill down her spine and deep into the pit of her stomach.
It was there, today, that Fell met with one of those very intruders. Maziel was further inland where the trees could block the cold winds, only tugging the strands of her brown hair off her neck and away from her rump. Their sounds carried toward her, the dreadful thudding of bodies smacking one another. Too, the smell of adrenaline and rage and even fear wove itself into the frigid sea breeze. When it touched her nose, Maziel trembled, dished face lowering as she tucked herself further into the trees.
Then there was silence, and it wasn’t any better than what had been before. This wasn’t the exhausted relief of triumph, but the bitter, yawning ache of loss. Maziel knew this feeling all too well, and as Fell’s son turned the children and the herd away from the beach, the roaned mare stood still. Her brown-lined ear twitched toward the hoof steps of her daughters, their familiar, comforting smell pulling her as though magnetized. They were still here and she wanted to cling herself to them, usher soft whuffling breaths across their coats and reassure herself of their presence.
But she noticed there was one scent that was not among them. The Bay’s queen, Kohelet.
The dread settled back into her chest and Maziel turned her face away from the direction she knew the herd was and instead back down the direction they’d come, where the Salem intruder had attacked. Maziel was waiting to hear Fell’s steps or to smell his scent stronger, anything to clue her in to his approach. Yet his smell, masculine and heady, remained just barely carried among the salty brine of the seaside air. There was blood, too, coppery and tangy and striking some innate survival response that begged her to go the opposite way of it.
Instead, Maziel chose to walk toward it.
The growing roar of the ocean waves made her throat tighten, the ground growing somewhat cold and soft under her as she drew away from the rich, loamy earth and further into the sand. Sweat dampened her armpits, her thighs, and down her neck, but still Maziel moved forward. She followed the faint trail of Fell, of what despair she could sense heavily permeating the air, heart sinking as she drew closer yet.
How could she vocalize that she understood this loss? That as Fell lay somewhere a few feet in front of her in the sand, damp with sweat and blood, smeared in coarse sand and saltwater, Maziel knew this place and felt for him? Tears stung in her eyes, but she let the wind from the ocean take them away.
“You’ll get her back.” She said, once she was sure her voice wouldn’t shake and it sounded as though he’d gone still in the sand, and she said it loud enough to be sure he would hear her. The conviction in her tone left no doubt that Maziel’s mind was made up. Even defeated as he was, she believed in him. There was only a small beat of silence before Maziel drew another step in the sand closer, lowering her lips to the grain and sniffing along until she drew closer to his warm, living body. “You will.” She assured him again.
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