Zevulun’s swim back from the Badlands had given him a lot of solitary time, and his mind replayed the conversation with Riesling over and over again, tormenting him. Other times he remembered the memories before, the moments in between when something had assured him that beneath her hard exterior, Riesling cared for him in some capacity. He couldn’t believe that after all this time he was still such a fool. Getting older was supposed to make him wiser, wasn’t it?

The pale stallion sighed a heavy breath once he finally stood ashore in the Prairie once more. At least here, among the yellowed grasses buried in patches of icy snow, he could breathe and remind himself he was home. Zevulun closed his eyes, letting his head hang briefly as the heaviness of everything he carried settled down across his back. A small sting pricked his heart. This was supposed to be their home. When he opened his eyes he half expected to see the vision he dreamed of - Riesling off in the distance, new babe stuck to her hip - and he even felt a brief echo of the pride and love he had felt every time he witnessed the sight. But, when Zevulun’s pale lashes fluttered and the Prairie came sharply into focus, she wasn’t there. All he could picture was her enraged expression as she threw time after time after time that he’d failed her back into his face.

Self-doubt was a wretched bedfellow that Zevulun knew too well. The entirety of his healing process he had wrestled with it, beginning to believe he was nothing more than the washed-up failure fate had tried to push him back down to be. Despite his return and frankly miraculous recovery (though most of the credit for that would be given to the healer from Atlantis), Zevulun had wondered if he was good enough… if he even deserved to continue to fight against the odds to carve out a small sanctuary for families who didn’t care to be wrapped up in power-plays.

Without Eirena, Aurélie, and Luna’s support while he healed in the Savanna, Zevulun might’ve given into those doubts. Riesling’s face swam up in his subconscious again and Zevulun pushed back against the hurt that rose. A more determined look crossed his face. When Avalon had disappeared, Zevulun had become so obsessed with their failed relationship that he’d completely abandoned every other relationship he had. Ysabel’s warranted hatred and explanation of her mother’s treatment as a direct result of his abandonment, a thing he would always feel guilty for and never be able to remedy, flickered briefly across his mind.

As much as he wanted to rage over what had happened with Riesling, there were others in the Prairie who needed his attention. Taking a breath, Zevulun strode forward, up the beach and further into the midst of the rolling Prairie hills. He was weary from everything that had just happened - both the swim to and from Salem, as well as the fight itself - and though his leg was healing, it wasn’t healed. His limp was more evident than it had been the last few days and exhaustion made lines at his lips, which he pressed thin with determination. He only needed to walk until he found someone from the herd. Someone to remind him that there were those who trusted him and were looking at him now to put his personal hurt aside to focus on keeping them safe, just like he’d promised he would.