Among the sorrows of the past season, happiness still found a way to bloom. Eirena’s unwavering devotion and the wonderful little girl they’d had together were two blessings Zevulun found himself humbly grateful for. He had felt ashamed for having worried her with his sudden disappearance, even more so because she’d had to birth and raise their daughter alone. But despite his shame in worrying how much he had failed her and the gnawing doubt that he deserved her continued support, Zevulun was so very grateful to her.

It was Willa who approached him first. Zevulun’s smile widened as he tilted his pink chin down to look at their lovely golden girl. Her laughter drifting out behind her as she’d run to him was one of the most beautiful sounds he thought he might ever hear. Children should always be able to laugh and run freely, not burdened by the realities and sorrows that’d inevitably find them once they were grown. Zevulun caught the sight of Eirena approaching a bit further off, his gaze momentarily stuck on watching her. Were it not for Willa speaking, he likely would’ve been distracted and unable to keep from staring dreamily after Eirena clear until she came up in front of him. But their daughter’s happy voice, “The savanna doesn’t have enough of the pretty flowers,” broke the trance he’d fallen under. Zevulun blinked and glanced down at her, then nodded agreeably. He had been grateful to Kvasir for his generosity, but a piece of him had still ached every day for the gently rolling hills of his home.

The Prairie had once just been a place to him; when he was a young colt it was a territory he and his sisters were forbidden to go to; it had been where the grandfather he never knew had a large, successful herd for years; it had been the home of one of his father’s most trusted allies. In some way or another it had always been connected to him, but now it was his home, and it was the place where his children could frolic and giggle among the flowers. He understood his desperation to hold on to it and protect the vision he saw for it just a little bit better.

He watched Willa carefully pick a flower and, when she reared up, rather than pull his face away, Zevulun lowered it so she’d have an easier time accomplishing her goal. He felt the soft brush of the velvet petals of the flower she’d plucked and stuck behind his ear. Zevulun grinned at her nod of approval. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he murmured appreciatively, then smiled further as she announced that she enjoyed her time in the Prairie more. Zevulun reached out to affectionately ruffle and blow a warm breath into her soft mane before he tucked his chin back. “I like the Prairie better too,” he admitted to her as though he was telling her a secret.

As Eirena approached them he lifted his head and tilted his chin a bit proudly, straightening somewhat to stick out his muscular chest. Mainly though it was the flower their daughter had picked and stuck into his forelock that he was showing off, posing a little with a bit of bright mirth in his eyes. It was the first time since he’d disappeared that Zevulun was finally his carefree, happy, teasing self. “What do you think? I haven’t even looked at my reflection and I can tell Willa picked the perfect flower for my complexion.”