The moon had dipped near the horizon line by the time Zevulun walked up the shores of the Prairie. All in all, he had only been absent for a few hours shy of a day. Had it just been yesterday morning that he’d taken to swimming the ocean, headed to the Badlands, and stood opposite the rage and hurt he had caused two women he loved? As his hooves pulled his body up the shoreline, water still rolling off his figure, Zevulun’s expression was struck with a solemnity the Prairie lead did not often wear.

Or, tried not to wear.

There were still a few hours of night left, but the sun would soon brush the horizon and begin to set the world alight. Zevulun did not make for the large valley he knew the main part of the herd bedded down in during the winter. As much as every piece of himself craved the love and comfort those who still believed in him would give, he did not feel worthy of it. Why should he be able to seek the kind words and embraces of the other women he loved, when the one he only caused pain was left with even more of it and nowhere to turn to but the child he also upset? Perhaps it was a self-inflicted punishment, but the spotted cream stallion turned himself directly opposite of where the herd’s scents grew stronger and began to trudge along.

He swore his oath had no rhyme or reason, but only a half hour since he’d turned himself away from his family, the breeze brought a scent that stopped him in his tracks. A shiver crawled over his skin and a knot settled tight and low in his gut. Zevulun blinked and glanced off, an almost tortured look across his face as he pointed the direction her smell had come from. Daire.

They had been avoiding one another all autumn; avoiding one another since he had told her she could stay, and that Riesling would not come home. Still, there had been a small part of him that had hoped. He had kept himself away from Daire because he knew his greatest weakness would be damn near impossible to fight the longer time stretched between his and Riesling’s last meeting. To be so lonely and want to lay his forehead to her skin, and sigh, and not think about how sick he was for somehow being able to feel romantically for her after everything he knew. His loyalty should have been steadfast with Riesling, if he truly loved her. He should have been able to be cruel and cast Daire and her children out before things became too complicated; before he had come to care for her children (Riesling’s half-siblings, for crying out loud) as if they were his own.

I’ve given you leave to hurt me too many times; for the sake of our children, for the sake of…whatever this was. But our children are grown…

The wind brought the scent of Daire again.

And I will not spare you again.

He felt a heavier sense of dread than before, then nodded, even though he was the only one around to see him do so. As quietly as he could, Zevulun turned among the yellowed grasses and walked over the rolling hills, pale pink nostrils flared outward as he drew in deep breaths of the fresh, nighttime air. With it came Daire’s scent, and he followed it as it grew stronger, feeling dizzier and more ashamed the closer he approached.

Then he saw her.

Zevulun drew to a stop and watched her briefly, swallowing against the spreading ache in his chest before he tumbled out a soft nicker, hoping only to wake her and not her children. When she looked at him he gestured over his back with his chin, indicating he wanted her to walk alone with him in the late hours of the evening. If he had brows, he might’ve lifted them, watching her curiously to see if she would come with him. He awaited her reply, be it to shake her head and refuse to move, or to pick her way toward him and walk alongside him.

Zevulun wasn’t going to speak until he was sure they were alone and out of ear-shot of anyone else, but he still wrestled with what he wanted to say and would do so clear until the words were falling out of his mouth.