Meadow

From Salem he landed on the outskirts of the Lagoon shores and skirted around the island’s east shoreline, doing his best to avoid the fresh scents of whatever bachelors lingered. He was still too mentally checked out to consider being worried about the increase in scents. Zevulun only stumbled on out of necessity, like his body moved on auto-pilot. It knew it was supposed to take him away from the desert isle (for good, most likely) and send him back to the Prairie, where he was supposed to do as he swore he was going to and not leave. He had been so stupid to have thought he needed to see them one last time, like it would magically go the way things had quietly gone between him and Mariael.

So… so stupid to not see the pain he continued to cause. All that he had done to Riesling by his presence alone these last few years. Zevulun had always thought love could only be a good thing - that if he loved her enough, she would come around, and they would live happily ever after. He’d wanted it so terribly he’d never stopped to think… maybe she didn’t. Maybe she didn’t and maybe she wouldn’t.

As he walked, north-bound but still within the Lagoon boundary, he thought of other mares with faces who’s memory only stayed with those of the children they’d gifted him and the ache in his heart at how long it’d been since he’d seen them last. Ethra through Miriella, Vera through Jasper, Larka through Catori, Aurélie through Hael and Lohan, Frond through Vernonia, Sabriel through Lior, Grier through Leliel. He swallowed at the knot that had crawled up his throat and blinked away the tears that stung. Had he failed them by trying to love them? Had he done to them exactly what he had done to Riesling?

The sun had long set and darkness was starting to settle, but Zevulun still walked at the same slow pace. Caught in a dream; or maybe a walking nightmare.

What of those who remained? Those who stayed despite his constant failures? Of Eirena and Luna? Of Daire, who was likely in danger of Riesling’s retribution just because he was too caught on some morals to displace her elsewhere - or was it personal feelings, what his heart wanted, disguised as his morals? What of those who followed him through absence to the Savanna and back again? Who were kind enough to give him new children to love and watch grow as he settled back within the Prairie, their leader again, as though he’d never failed them at all. Was… was he failing them, too?

Should he have tried so hard to come back? Should he have given up?

Zevulun came to a quiet stop, standing still in the middle of the snow-dusted meadow, moonlight bathed down over his pale coat. He looked toward the stars, but all he could see was the pain across Riesling’s face and the way it’d turned to steel as soon as she could make it so. He breathed a heavy sigh that blew like smoke out before him and floated out above his body. He was unaware of any audience or company, or even where he was standing, lost in the somber tangle his mind had become.