Charmeine’s moonlight-pale form is impossible to miss even as she moves through the deep shadows of the Bay. Khoshekh had been awake anyway, tucked somewhere on the outskirts of the herd’s bedding grounds for the night, close enough to the stream that its musical whispering might help him sleep. It hasn’t worked yet, but though Kho’s eyes are very much open to catch Charmeine sneaking by to get water, he is still soothed by the trickling. He knows that, soon, the stream will mostly freeze over, and that any sounds left in the Bay will be smothered by snow. He isn’t sure what he’ll do when that time comes, but… well, there’s no sense in worrying about it right now.

Khoshekh follows Charmeine with only his eyes for a moment as she melts into the darkness near the water, expecting her to reappear in a moment when she’s had her drink, but she doesn’t. The sounds of moving water are the only thing Kho can hear for many long moments. When the pale mare still does not pass by him again, Kho moves to follow her in earnest, his knees creaking a little bit as he flexes them for the first time in several hours.

“Can’t sleep either?” he asks quietly as he joins her on the river bank, stretching as he comes to a halt. It isn’t until after he’s casually shaken himself out, loosing the few pine needles that had fallen onto his back over the course of the night, that he notices the glisten of unshed tears in her eyes. He feels quite foolish, and as though he’s interrupted something intimate, but it’s far too late to backpedal.

“I’m sorry,” he says, unable to think of anything else to say, but he can’t say nothing and pretend like he hasn’t just noticed something is wrong. He wishes he could read from her expression what it was that pained her, to save either of them the discomfort of… talking about it.

Khoshekh is very bad at ‘talking about it’, and if the roles were reversed, he might wish for Charmeine to just brush it off and pretend like everything is fine. However, even if she were to tell him to do something along those lines, he doesn’t think he would be able to. His heart gives an empathetic squeeze. He has grown up alongside Charmeine, and he does not hesitate to consider her his best friend, but his care for her is deeper even than that. Too deep to ignore a command from her to let her handle her problems on her own, were she to give him one.

So, he sets aside his own discomfort for talking about feelings — feeling both guilty that this is something he is able to do that his father unfairly cannot, and relieved that he finds it easier than expected — and asks, “what’s wrong?”

stallion | raven black | 16.1hh | Fell x Kohelet