Ursa? Ursa!

She was awake by the time the first syllable fell from the smaller woman’s lips, sensing the restless motion of the body beside her. Grappling with her sleep-heavy thoughts, the brown flicked her ears forward. Her muscular frame was tense, prepared to erupt into motion at the slightest threat. Though as cramped as they were, she was just as likely to harm Lavender in the process of trying to protect her. For a second that seemed to span an eternity, she waited for the blue roan or the bay draft or one of the Lagoon’s other brutish creatures to force their way into the small clearing. Then an owl hooted softly — startled by the palomino’s fear-harshened whisper — and the breath pushed from Ursa’s lungs in a soundless sigh of relief. Though their safety felt like borrowed time in a place such as this, she would take every moment the fates saw fit to grant them.

I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have disturbed you… This time the draft let her breath blow softly through her nostrils, expressing her forgiveness without words. After the commotion that she’d heard not long after their arrival here, Ursa was no less apprehensive. She’d been certain she’d scented that pale spotted woman within the boundaries of the Lagoon, though she’d refrained from mentioning as much to Lavender. Whether their presence here had prompted the confrontation or not, she held little faith of aid from the same stranger who’d chosen to help the strong over the weak. And true to her expectations, help did not arrive in any form. By now, perhaps, they would be forgotten — or dismissed as a hopeless cause.

I don’t think they’ll be coming back for us. It was strange the way their thoughts had started to weave together, so that at times Ursa almost felt she could pluck them from Lavender’s mind. Well, perhaps not quite so strange given the dire circumstances that they shared. In any case, the draft mare agreed with her smaller companion, albeit in silence. It certainly wouldn’t be helpful to feed her hopelessness, not even as close to the truth as it seemed. In the end, it wasn’t just the palomino’s body that Ursa sought to shield. Her heart, too, seemed a delicate and fragile thing — something that could break if handled with too little care.

Not that she’d ever had any sort of talent for empathy.

But it’s okay, because I don’t need anything from anyone else. Shifting uncomfortably — a discomfort that only increased at the gentle brush of lips over her skin — the large woman grunted in response. What she had done… it wasn’t much. Truth be told, it was barely anything at all. The very least that one creature should do for another. But Lavender seemed determined to hold her in high regard for sharing this frightening exile, and Ursa could not spare the energy to argue. Not when the both of them slept in a stolen hour here and a moment there, their senses always keyed up for the inevitable end to their isolation.

Sleep had begun to creep on the draft mare by the time Lavender’s voice broke the silence again. Her lids were heavy with it, drooping down to cover all but slits of her moss-green eyes. But even in the haze of her weariness, there was no mistaking the words that she’d heard. Or the meaning that lay beneath them. The silence that followed felt long — too long — as Ursa scrambled to find the right words to answer. And even after taking the time to think, she still didn’t know what to say. So she spoke openly — honestly — and with a touch of regret lacing her contralto voice.

“Simply choosing you made no difference. I should’ve fought them. I should’ve at least tried.”