is voice was soft in the air between them: 'Don't..." Vervain searched his face desperately for the rest of the sentence, for his meaning. Don't go? Don't stay here? The sound of a bugling cry sounded much too close. Fear tingled down her spine as Vervain watched her keeper's eyes widen in much the same manner as hers had. Her breaths shortened into pants as the anxiety grasped her airways.

He lunged then, shouting for her to go as he did so. The black mare shied away from him, a surprised squeal escaping her lips. The combination of the two loud sounds was enough to finally rouse their daughter sleeping in the rushes. It took Vervain a moment to settle. By the time she did, the grullo paint stallion was disappearing beyond the mangrove ring that enclosed their secluded island. Vervain stared after him, shock painfully clear on her features.

Velaris had made it to her feet, tottering after her father to see where he went. She knew better than to get too close to the water, as her mother had taught her. When the natural sounds of the swamp kicked in, the pair were still looking over the water where Peyote disappeared. Velaris had no inkling of what happened; so she immediately resumed what was normal: sticking her tongue out at the fish visible in the water.

Meanwhile, Vervain's mind reeled as she tried to put the pieces together. He had told her to take Vela to the Prairie, despite never even entertaining the thought of returning to Luthien before. In the year she'd been here, going there was never an option, but... the way he'd pleaded with her to go, the panic in his eyes: he was desperate for them to go. Was he afraid for them? Was he trying to protect them? Or was it a trick? Was he testing her again as he had before?

It was dizzying to consider every implication. Despite this, Vervain wanted to believe that the grullo meant to protect them by ordering them to go, but every rule she'd been taught to follow screamed for her to not leave the island. He had kept her fearful of the water and the alligators hidden beneath and of the stallions that lurked between this secret place and the outside world. Peyote had molded her perhaps too well to his devices.

Vela, honey, the mare managed to croon. Come away from the water. You know better. When she could think about everything without the adrenaline pumping through her veins, the mare promised herself she would think over what to do. It was an excuse really. She deluded herself into thinking it was a test after all; Peyote would be back. Thus began the longest night she'd ever known.

Vervain didn't sleep that night. She watched long into the midnight hours, waiting for the painted stallion to return and praise her for remaining on the island as he had before. But Peyote did not return that night. Or the next. Or the one after that. Fear crept into Vervain's heart as the days passed. Where had he gone? Peyote had been the one to protect her and stand against the dangers of the swamp; now she'd been left on her own to protect herself and their young daughter.

At dawn on the third day since Peyote's departure, Vervain roused her little one with gentle kisses, lipping lovingly at the filly's downy fur. Vela, baby, it's time to get up. Gently, the brindled mare nudged the sleepy filly and attempted to lure her in consciousness. We're going on a trip, my sweet. I kept it a surprise just for you. She sealed the sentence with a smile as the painted filly stretched her gangly legs and then vaulted upright.

Her blue eyes, bright with curiosity, looked up the mare with wonder. "We aaaaaare," she questioned with an excited squeal. Vervain nodded an answer, managing to keep her fear and dread hidden. The girl's white face screwed up slightly as she questioned: "Will Daddy meet us there?" The black mare's mouth went dry, but she only faltered for a heartbeat. Guess we'll have to see when we get there, won't we? It came out sing-songy, a special tone she only used for her baby girl, as if it were all a game. She even sold it with a sly wink.

Velaris launched to her feet. Excitedly, the filly bucked and zoomed around her dark mother, ending with rubbing her face and neck all along one side of her body before settling to nurse. Vervain watched the surrounding swamp with trepidation. She knew even now that they could be vulnerable to another stallion finding and taking them; they would have to move quickly. Vervain had a plan by the time her daughter pulled away from her. Her eyes crinkled in a smile as the overo babe giggled and blew little milk bubbles.

Okay, Vela... Are you ready for the first game of the day, the mare asked conspiratorially, to which the filly nodded eagerly. We're going to race out to the mangroves. You ready? The smoky black filly's tail wiggled with anticipation, and Vervain counted slowly as she searched the water for any signs of the beasts in the water. Once convinced, she proclaimed the last number, and the two bounded through the murk to the twisted trees beyond.

Once Vervain spotted the gap they could make it through, she guided their race through it. The filly laughed as they romped along, oblivious to the danger they were in. The black mare was almost jittery as she called the race. Good job, sweetheart! You did such a good job. I could hardly keep up with you! It was an exaggeration in play, normal for any mother.

Now... are you ready for the next one? On and on the games went: pretending to be herons with silent, high steps, then trying to be as quiet as a mouse or mimicking toads and whooping cranes, and so on. Until eventually, they made it to the edge of the world. Vela's eyes widened at the tremendous sight of the verdant grassland that made up the Commons. She'd never seen so much grass before.

"Momma," she squealed, trotting over to a large purple flower. "It's so pretty! The black mare smiled. There are so many different flowers here, my love. Vervain promised this despite not knowing if it was true, but a grassland in spring? There were flowers to be found; she knew this well enough from being home in the Prairie.

Her heart clenched. Home. Vervain turned back to stare long into the wetlands she'd guided them through. Somewhere behind them was the island she never thought she'd leave and found the beauty in. They were heading to the Prairie, the home she never thought she'd see again. Coming back to herself, Vervain encouraged her daughter into a race flat out to the east where the beach was and then north along the coast that Peyote had brought her down a year ago.

Everything was new, for her and Velaris. The painted girl couldn't stop talking about all the neat things they saw that day before finally tuckering out. She soon lay fast asleep, nestled in the tall grass for her nap. It was late afternoon, and the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon. Fear traced a finger down the black mare's spine. She still didn't know where was safe out here, and it felt too open compared to the enclosed space she'd been living in.

All of the trip that day had been guesswork from what she remembered of the hellish trip south. Peyote had pushed and pushed her that day with bites and shoves, but it was fuzzy now, convoluted with the tenderness he'd been showing her. Vervain longed to keep them going for at least another hour or two to get at least a little closer to where she imagined the Prairie was, but Vela needed to rest.

The black mare tried to graze, but even the grass was wildly different than what she'd grown used to. Vervain couldn't place what the difference was, but it was almost saltier here. A shock ran through the mare as someone shouted her name. Her head raised immediately, and she looked around with wild eyes. She fully believed it to be a test with Peyote now finishing his pursuit of them.

But the face she saw wasn't Peyote's. There was gold in their blazed face, pale tresses laying against their neck, and disbelief in blue eyes that were familiar. Shock and fear shuddered through the brindled mare. Then they dissipated, replaced by a surge of knowing. Nephilim? She was dazed. Anger flooded her next as the questions flew by. Had he been here all along? How had he been so close and not come for her?

Then shame and guilt swallowed her as the pale stallion approached. She hadn't even tried to escape since that first day. She'd let Peyote take and take from her when she should have been fighting to get back to him and her family. She'd given up. She had let Peyote.. "Momma," her baby questioned sleepily with Neph now close enough to hear her. "Is that Daddy?" Velaris was half-asleep, innocently questioning her mother, but it had shattered Vervain.

If Peyote hadn't come that night, the man before her would have been her father. Hadn't she daydreamed once about golden foals playing in the prairie grass? Now, she had to look the stallion she had loved -- loved still? -- in the eye and say: No, honey. Go on, finish your nap. Every word was a hushed struggle as she tried to keep even tones to not alert her daughter.

The whirlwind of emotions threatened to blow the brindle mare away from this reunion. They were supposed to be together. They were supposed to be happy and laughing in the Prairie. Instead there was the jagged cavity in her chest. What could he possibly think of her now? What would he say to Zevulun or to her mother? Vervain couldn't produce any more words; her mouth moved but nothing came out. How could she possibly explain what happened in a way where he wouldn't hate her?

vervain

mare ∙ mutt ∙ black brindle ∙ 16.3 hands
daire's daughter ∙ peyote's prize