t had been more difficult than Vervain had hoped for: adjusting to life back in the Prairie. Being with her mother and father, her brothers, and Nephilim again brought her indescribable joy in the months since her return. Her mother had had a child herself; the sweet, golden Edenwilde. Castillon and Aura were in the new stages of being together. Neph had even moved to the Praire with Chati and her twins. She was getting to watch her daughter give chase to Zevulun, the girl's grandfather, and having various things explained by the ever-patient Neph.

These things and more had been more fulfilling than she had expected. So many things were joyful, and she was thankful for their time together. When there were moments she was alone or in the lull between smiles and laughter, the brindle couldn't help feeling like she was an outsider, something... other. Vervain felt like those closest to her were walking on eggshells trying not to break the delicate façade she had crafted, or casting furtive glances. It hadn't been possible to go into much detail about "her time away." It was too much for her to handle at length, and, in truth . . . she feared them questioning her about why Velaris came to be.

The black mare had struggled to move on from her life in the Lagoon. She had loved the openness of the Prairie before and enjoyed the sprawling blue sky, but now after being in the middle of a swamp for a year: where the trees encroached on much around her, and the air itself seemed green in the humidity? It was too open now. Then there was the pressure of just being around others. It was like Vervain was hyper-aware of everyone's mere presence and body language, which did nothing to soothe her nerves.

In the swill of her isolation, anxiety, and grief for lost time with her family, there were more complicated feelings yet. These were things Vervain wouldn't let herself sit with. She had truly come to believe that none of this would ever happen, that she would never leave the island... or its keeper. Her keeper. Yet, here she was in the Prairie -- the place she had begged to just visit -- with her daughter and her family, and Peyote had sent them here. Alone.

It was hard not to think that the next day he would come for them when each day ended. Every evening, Vervain's mind raced at the thought of the painted grullo fighting any of one of the men in her life, and who would be the most injured because of her. She tortured herself with these imagined scenarios and couldn't help but worry that Peyote, too, would be wounded.

Vervain had wanted so badly to leave, hadn't she? She'd wanted to come home. She'd wanted a life surrounded by her family with Nephilim at her side.. So why couldn't the striped mare fully remove her thoughts from the grullo stallion who had stolen her away in the night? Why was she worried about the safety of the one who treated her in unspeakable ways? Vervain was up late in the night considering such things. Her eyes rested on the prone form of her sleeping child. Velaris' pale, little face was highlighted beneath the light of the autumn moon, the curly knob of tail twitching as she dreamed.

The mare's eyes drooped with increasing drowsiness. She had thought she was capable of staying awake until Nephilim returned from visiting with Dasra, but it seemed sleep was going to reach the mare before the buckskin did. A gentle breeze rustled through the tall grass and into the orchard where the dark mare and her daughter rested, and, with it came the whispering scent of Peyote. Vervain's eyes blearily roved among the grasses and tree trunks, so sure that her mind was playing tricks in her sleep-addled state. Peyote, she murmured questioningly into the darkness, her head largely drooping as the mare struggled not to fall asleep. She prayed that the single word would not reach Neph's ears lest it hurt him. Vervain didn't know if she wanted silence or something to answer her.

vervain

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