but i was not blind;

With the warm security of her father pressed to her side, Claret knows that everything should be alright. She should no longer be afraid, should no longer worry. But still, she cannot rid herself of the deep-seeded panic, the need to look around them for any threats, to keep moving, to not be caught. She should be able to breathe, able to think, able to rest. But her mind still moves a million miles a minute, constantly searching for danger, for any inkling of movement on the horizon, for a reason to run again. Even when her father speaks, explaining what actually happened to Marceline (and she still isn’t sure she believes it - not really), Claret cannot calm the pounding of her heart.

It isn’t a surprise to find her mom isn’t here, although it does make her more suspicious of anything like a storm claiming Marceline’s life. “Oh,” Claret finally manages to get out. She knew when her mom wasn’t the first to find her that she probably wasn’t here, but it still is a blow to her fragile state she isn't’t sure she was ready for. How long until her mother returns? Claret knows she cannot live in Salem - the landscape is too much the same from the Badlands to the Hills, and the memories make her want to vomit. But if her uncle is there…what if her mom never comes home?

As if he read her mind, her dad reassures her that mom will come home, and that she will be relieved to see her. But Claret…Claret isn’t so sure of that. Her mother is everything she isn’t - fire and rage and cunning, bright and devastating in everything that she does. But Claret? She is quiet and meek and dark, nothing like the raging inferno she was raised by. Her mom must be so disappointed with her - disappointed that Claret didn’t fight back, didn’t thrive in the face of adversity and make the Hills herd work for her.

“I guess,” she finally manages to get out, unable to meet her father’s eyes. She sways a little on her feet then, exhausted and weak in a way just beyond the physical. “Could you,” Claret starts to ask softly and then hesitates, embarrassed. She’s a mare grown, not some foolish filly still afraid of what lurks in the dark. She shouldn’t need her father to watch over her just to sleep in her own home. Her fear is just one more stark reminder that she isn’t nearly so strong as her mother, that she surely must be a disappointment. But her mom isn’t here, and her dad won't mind. So Claret gives in and asks, a little desperately, “Can you stay while I sleep? I just - I don’t want to be alone. In case anyone comes for me.”

claret