The look of surprise that crossed Zevulun’s face as she begins to speak is enough to cause her heart to clench. Like a child being reprimanded by a disciplining parent, Zevulun gazes at her with a look of reproach. Larka feels for the first time, a shift beginning to form in their relationship. The wall was once more beginning to form and this time, the doing was her own. An ache tugs at her heart but she cannot halt the words that fall from her lips. She had to speak her mind lest she lose herself completely.
There is no love or understanding in his gaze as he listens silently to the words she speaks. When finally she does end her speech, there is no reassurance that he understands her viewpoint. The gaze that locks hard onto her own silver-blue eyes is unreadable. His pale pink lips press firmly together and when he does finally speak, she cannot help but feel her own defeat at the sharp tone of his voice. ’..intend to offer to allow him to stay if he would agree….I will not share leadership… refuse to share….’ The words he speaks send an icy chill coursing through her veins. Like the sharp point of a dagger, the wounds that had long felt healed reawaken. Liland. Like a rotten berry buried among the juiciest of bunches, she feels the sting of his words and cannot help but flinch at the memories that arise. Months of fear, years of anguish, and days of anxiety once more wind themselves like a tight noose around her neck. He huffs a breath of resolve and the lump in her throat grows. Her gaze raises to him once more as a heavy sigh silently leaves her lips.
He was right in one aspect. The Prairie would always be home to her. Though Shamwari’s bones did not feed the earth, Darshan and Sanibel were buried here among the yellow seas of grain, and by the gods she hoped that she too would find a similar fate. Silently, with her head bent to hide the rising tides of her own internal struggles, Larka takes a step backward to allow the other members of the herd to take her place. She does not matter, her words do not matter; at least not now anyway.
Blinking away the resurfaced memories, Larka half-listens as Zevulun continues to speak, reaffirming the decision of the collective group that the Prairie would always be home. What had happened to him to change his way of thinking, or cause him to close the gates around him, Larka doubts she will ever see the day to know. Nonetheless, she remains the in the ever-present background. Listening. ’Raziel will inform him of my terms…’ he continues and a single lobe ticks backward and then forwards again. She was simply too tired to try and change his mind, especially when it is so obviously made up.
She expects him to react to her decision to remain in the Prairie, but she does not quite expect it to be so obvious. He does not react in an obvious manner, but to her scrutinizing gaze, she notices the difference. There is a range of emotions that dances through his pale eyes, jealousy and betrayal being among the most noticeable. The love that bound them together causes her to take an automatic step forward, intent to close the gap between them and bury her small muzzle into the concave of his throat with whispered reassurances of devotion. It was what she should have done. If only she had been mute to his words. ’...I will tell Raziel to stay here with you then…’ her steps falter and halt altogether.
Larka has always been a proud creature, nurturing and understanding to a fault. Age has brought with it a sort of calming peace to her countenance but never has she been described as meek or unable to defend herself. Surely he did not mean it that way. She tells herself quietly as she forces her incredulous gaze away from the handsome face. Heat burns beneath her skin as she presses her dark lips together in a firm line but nods her head slightly in acknowledgment. A single brow arches defiantly as she buries her muzzle into Catori’s shoulder as the filly prances back to her side, confusion written across her small features. ”I do not need a keeper Zevulun..” she begins, exhaling a slow breath before glancing once more up at the cream stallion, her glacial gaze void of emotion. ”But do as you wish. It will make no difference.”
Clenching her jaw tightly, Larka dips her head respectfully and takes a step backward. Now was neither the time nor place to continue this conversation and it was clear by his heightened emotions that Zevulun would not hear her even if she tried. For the first time since they have met, the silverling mare turns her back on the gathered herd, every muscle and bone aching but none worse than her own heart. Raven-tipped ears tilt backward as she cast a final glance in his direction, ”I hope you will visit at least.” ’before it is too late..’ the last words catch themselves in her throat before they find a voice. The secret of her own mortality was beginning to become harder and harder to hide.
A gentle smile tugs at the corners of her ashen lips as gently she beckons to Catori before turning away and wading like a silent wraith through the sea of Bromus grass.
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The interaction between her parents silences the bubbly girl’s usual excitable personality. Confusion shines brightly in her cerulean eyes as she glances from mother to father and back again. What was happening? The rest of the herd seems to notice the unspoken tension between the two for all appear to have fallen silent, causing the yearling to shrink back against her father’s shoulder in response.
Mother does not respond in words to Zevulun’s reply, but even the young girl recognizes the sadness that lingers in her pale blue eyes. Why? Concerned, she steps closer to Mother now, bumping her velvet muzzle into the pale mare’s shoulder. Only then does she respond. ’ I don't need a keeper…’ A keeper? What was that? A whole new wave of questions gathers on her tongue and she opens her mouth to break the barrier of silence but already Larka has walked off, beckoning her to follow. ” Now? But Da just got home!” she whines in the most aggravated tone she can imagine making a point of tossing her head and stomping her small hoof in exasperation. Apparently, it was a show for nothing. Larka does not even stop to reprimand her. Yet another reason to be confused.
She sighs in exasperation and turns her searching eyes up to Zevulun. ” Da?” she begins, a little unsure of the tension that seems to linger around them. ” Is... Is everything okay? Mom….” her voice trails now as she searches for her own words. What could she say?