A few days passed since everything had happened between he and Riesling, and Zevulun was well aware there was something within his territory that he was absolutely not addressing. Many of the things Riesling had said sprung into his mind at one point or another, giving him a heartaching array of emotions depending on what mood he was in when he remembered them. But it was one phrase in particular that, being here in the Prairie, just wouldn’t stop repeating. Or perhaps trust should have come when you prioritized your own pride in keeping my mother in the Prairie, even when you heard from her what she did to me, when you knew I would not live alongside her or raise a child anywhere she could torture them.

Zevulun felt both guilty and uncertain. Daire was still here within the Prairie, and she’d even gone with him and the herd to the Savanna, too, once realizing Riesling wasn’t going to accompany them. He had done exactly what Riesling accused him of and was continuing to do it now, welcoming her to return with the herd as they returned to the Prairie. But… Riesling had admitted herself she had never had any intention of returning to the Prairie, hadn’t she? She’d also, in so many words, outlined exactly why she would never trust him as a leader (or in general, really) which only furthered the fact that she would never return here.

So… did it really hurt things to keep letting Daire and her children stay?

True, Daire had confessed to everything she had done to Riesling, but the more he grew to know her, the more he felt she was being honest in the change she had undergone. It mirrored some of the things he was having to ignore with his continued delay of returning to Mariael, which always added to the emotional turmoil for him. Riesling had said he was falling for Daire’s trap, but Zevulun’s gut… it was telling him otherwise.

With a very, very heavy sigh, Zevulun finally knew there was no more ignoring it. Lifting his pale muzzle into the chilly, late winter air, he called out a soft, beckoning song for Daire. He started to walk, then, searching for her among the hills where he often saw her and her children. Zevulun’s limp had become worse as the weather grew colder, and the pain was nearly unbearable at night unless he had someone to cuddle up with to keep warm. It worried him briefly, but he was sure it was only the chill getting into the barely-healed muscle and bone. When the weather warmed and the snow thawed, he was sure he would feel better.

Zevulun caught Daire’s scent and whinnied out to her again, moving toward her and inevitably pushing away the instant reaction of interest that he felt trickled through him at the sight of her. The piece of himself that covered his hurt with anger tried to remind him that with Riesling gone, he was free to pursue whatever interest he had in Daire; Zevulun did what he could to push those thoughts aside. He offered a brief, half-smile at her, but it fell flat.

“I thought I should be the one to tell you personally that Riesling won’t be returning to the Prairie.” He tried to say it in a level tone, but his voice came out cracked and raw; he couldn’t hide the brief flare of pain that brightened his blue eyes. “We…” He trailed off, uncertain what to say. “I don’t know. I don’t know what we ever were.” Or even if they ever were anything.

His gaze focused on Daire again and he decided he would be completely honest. “One of the reasons, among many others, was because I allowed you to stay in the Prairie despite her wishes to have you thrown out…” He looked briefly troubled before he said, “Is it possible to both regret and not regret a decision? Maybe it’s better I know how she’s always felt about me now, even if it came about the way it did.”