Since his return to the Prairie a year prior, right before his father reclaimed it, Jasper had only left it once. He had swum to the Badlands and called out for Khan, but only silence had replied. As he listened to his desperate cries fade off into nothing, greeted only by the creatures active in the desert night, Jasper’s heart had sunk. It had taken everything not to walk every inch of the Badlands looking for Khan, or even to find Khan’s sister Arsinoe and ask her where he was. But Jasper had abandoned the Prairie once and, when he returned, he had found his father had lost it. He feared too much time spent away would somehow mean he would once be absent when his father needed him, so the small gold and white boy only lingered on the shore, looking at the gold sands lain out before him and fought against the sting of tears that rose.
They had promised they would visit one another, but weeks turned to months and season after season passed without them spending time together. Before he’d known it, it’d been a year. Jasper felt like a piece of himself was missing, even though he was at home in the Prairie and happy to watch his family come back together and meet his new siblings who were born in spring. His father was remaining in the Prairie more frequently, but Jasper didn’t allow that to make him feel relaxed regarding his Guardian duties. Zevulun had never once blamed him for how long he’d been gone and for the fact the territory had fallen into the leadership of another, but he didn’t need to. Jasper blamed himself enough for them both. He had been so wrapped up in how he felt with Khan, walking the mainlands and exploring the Badlands, he’d never once thought about home or getting back to them here.
Jasper knew if fate had not separated them, he likely would have never left Khan’s side to return home. He wrestled with the guilt of that truth, too.
It was near their place that Jasper heard a noise. When he was idle and not patrolling the Prairie shoreline or it’s inland borders he was often near that bend in the river. He often napped in the grass at the hill that looked over it, and quietly watched his reflection in its surface, but didn’t see the present when he did. All he saw were two young colts, both stricken by grief, seeking solace in one another’s company. He remembered how Khan had trembled against him and how tightly he’d wanted to hold onto him for it.
To anyone else in the Prairie it looked like an ordinary spot; the river flowed steady, but peacefully, and cut through the grassy hills that made various valleys throughout the territory. It was likely assumed he stayed close to it because it was a good place for food and fresh water, but Jasper was tied to this place more than anywhere else in the Prairie. Even the few brief moments he could remember sharing with his mother only paled in comparison to that fateful day he’d met the lean gold-and-white boy in the Prairie.
The young stallion, almost pony-like in build, walked toward the direction he’d heard the noise. He’d expected to come across someone from the Prairie herd up wandering, perhaps come for a mid-evening drink before they settled back where they’d bedded down until morning. But the figure was too familiar, even changed by a year, and Jasper stopped short, briefly wondering if his grief had somehow manifested this vision in front of him. He almost thought it wasn’t real; that it was too good to be true to have Khan standing alone before him in their spot, the water rushing around his legs and making soft trickling sounds as it did.
Then, with his ears flicked forward, he caught the strained, sad words Khan spoke. Do you think you could ever forgive me?
The ache that rose inside him was as swift as the ocean waves caught by a storm. It crashed over him, and he stumbled as he moved too-quickly and all-at-once, wanting to make for Khan down below as fast as he could. Thus, his approach was all too obvious to overhear, although there was every bit a chance Khan was too distracted by the grief, he bore to pay attention. Jasper didn’t call out to him, though, he only walked and kept walking, almost near breaking into a trot so he could get to the stallion’s side. The cold water splashed as his pale hooves broke into it’s surface, clattering over the rock and mineral-rich sand that made the bottom to cut through the river and approach Khan’s side.
Jasper did not think to fear any retribution, or that Khan might not welcome his touch. Thus, he intruded on Khan’s space without a word, walking until he could reach up and stretch his neck to go over Khan’s shoulders. He tucked his chin on the other side of the lean stallion and pulled him firmly in to his chest. Jasper was small, on account of his mother’s pony blood, but he was still large enough to pull his friend – no, more than that – in for a firm hug. So firm, in fact, for a moment Jasper forgot to breathe or think or do anything other than just hold on to the one he loved more than he truly understood.
“I will always forgive you, Khan,” he offered, but his voice was thin and strained. He’d waited until he could get the words out, but even then, the emotion threatened to choke them. Jasper did not need to know any specifics of why Khan would seek his forgiveness and he didn’t care. There was nothing the Salem stallion could do that would not earn Jasper’s absolution. “Always, always, always,” he promised further in warm breaths as he turned his cheek to press against Khan’s warm skin, such a contrast to the cool, freshwater that flowed around their limbs.
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