Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
| Calfuray
i'll find you in the wind |
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(content/trigger warning: brief mentions of/references to non-con) "I want to stay with him." That’s what Calfuray had claimed in the meadow, and the heavens themselves knew that she’d meant it. But not long after she’d left with him, parting ways briefly to return to the Peak and seek out her mother, the greying gold mare found herself cornered by the dark, silver-haired stallion that had seemed so intent on helping her. She tried to run, but she wasn’t quick enough, and this time there was no-one to save her. Shaken and ashamed, Calfuray had fled into the tangled heart of the Crossing, and never returned to meet Orphiel like she’d promised. Every morning she woke thinking of him, of whether he felt abandoned by her, of whether he hated her, or had forgotten about her entirely. She whiled away each day, trying to keep her gaze from settling on the mountain to the north, telling herself she couldn’t go there, not yet, because the last thing she wanted was to mar her union with her mother by crawling back into her life miserable and broken. After everything Kolfinna had done for her, making sure she was safe in the Peak - it was surely break her mother’s heart. And Kalanthia would despise her for her foolishness. Was it worth it, chasing after a boy, only to end up being chased down by a man? It terrified her, when it became evident that life had taken root in her. As her time of birthing drew nearer, the lone gray mare would wake from nightmares, of what she’d been witness to during her time in the Prairie - of a mare who died soon after delivering her child. And, much as she loathed the sire, she couldn’t bear the thought of the newborn being left alone if something happened to her. The Peak was too far, too treacherous to climb, so she turned south, heading for the Lagoon, thinking that, even if Orphiel was no longer there, the Bachelors wouldn’t turn her away. And if something happened to her - if she had a son, maybe they would take him in. But if she had a daughter, even though being a mother was the last thing she’d ever thought she’d be this young, she could not bring herself to risk leaving a filly in the Lagoon. So, she tucked herself away in the woodlands surrounding the Meadow, and laboured alone. The girl was the spitting image of her father, and, heart in her throat, Calfuray pulled herself upright and lurched away the second she took the features of the newborn filly in. Returned moments later, sobs catching in her throat, and helped the girl to stand. As the filly suckled, Calfuray wept bitterly, wishing - even knowing she’d regret it later - that she’d never left the Peak in search of the boy from her childhood at all. “Mama, where did you go?” she’d whispered, choked by the myriad of emotions vying for control of her. “I need you.” Seasons had passed, and the filly had grown strong. Calfuray kept her close, becoming ever more disconnected from others, convinced that she had to hide the girl away in case the stallion who’d fathered her came looking. “You call me Calfuray, okay? Not mama,” she’d impressed upon Ramoth early on. “Don’t talk to anyone you don’t know okay? If you hear someone coming, you must hide. If I tell you to run, Rae, you run and you don’t look back. Promise me.” And when she felt the season change, and her heat stir within, Calfuray become increasingly anxious, ever more sure that the best way to keep herself and her daughter safe was by hiding away from the world. Deep amongst the trees, in little hollows and shaded glades, she bade Ramoth wait and hide. They moved on frequently by night, drifting like vagabonds between the Falls and the Meadow, keeping largely to themselves. Calfuray grew thin, oftentimes too anxious to eat. What little grazing they did find as the days crept ever nearer to the oncoming winter, she made sure Ramoth had her fill first, before snatching up a few hurried mouthfuls herself, before urging her daughter onward. It was her greatest fear that a rogue stallion would come across them, because she knew in her heart she wouldn’t even try to run as she had last time - she couldn’t abandon her daughter. It was all she had left to hold onto - the hope that someday, if she were to ever see Kalanthia again, Calfuray could say to her: ‘I stayed by my girl, the way your mother didn’t stay for you.’ But, as with all things, the season came to an end, and despite the chill in the air when Calfuray woke to find it was winter proper - she felt within her that something had changed, that she was no longer so vulnerable. And for the first time in a very long time, the grey mare seemed at ease, the softest of smiles curling across her mouth as she gently woke Ramoth. Though she was too-thin, and tired easily these days, Calfuray was determined to continue on as she always had, for the sake of her daughter, whom she’d come to love more than she’d thought possible. “Ramoth, wake up. There’s something I want to show you.” And then, the largely inexperienced mother led the silver bay girl out into the Meadow, cutting a path through the dew-laden grass, heading for a lone tree with the last of its leaves clinging stubbornly to its branches, which were dusted white with the remnants of the first snowfall of the season. |