The wounds had healed, mostly, but the memories of that night remained as inescapable as the perpetual shift of day and night. I held the memory in my palms often, turning it between gently prying fingers, as if by constant examination I might find an explanation for the words - for the damnable truth - that had slipped from my lips in that moment. I knew, logically, that I was the same mare that Garmr had taken from her bed as I was the same mare that had returned from that journey bloodied, broken, and with ears ringing from the statement I'd made.

But I did not feel the same.

I did not trust that Garmr was different. He seemed much the same as he had been before: gruff, rude, distant, uncaring. But I remained untouched here among this fetid swamp, as though his influence alone was enough to keep the majority of the mud off of my skin. It was lonely, for certain, but not as lonely as it had been before, knowing as I do now.

The seasons shifted and with the cooling touch of autumn came a different kind of heat; one that sparked inside of my core, a flame that flickered and grew and danced inside my chest. It brought the memory of that night back, the shifting firelight illuminating parts that I'd almost forgotten. The way his broad shoulder had pressed against mine, supporting me home. The way his thick mane had smelled of swamp, of sweat, of him. The way I'd wanted to do nothing more than to touch my lips to his skin and skate them along the scars he wore, prying their stories from his gruff lips.

I shook myself - mentally and physically - and offered a small snort of derision at the direction of my thoughts. Years had passed here without an iota of anyone's interest and besides, I reminded myself harshly, I had no business wanting that kind of thing. Though my years as a princess of my people had long passed me by, my blood was still royal. I was still destined for something... maybe.

Frowning, I took another step into the flats to seek out breakfast while the sun played across my back, illuminating the soft grays and gray browns of my fading coat. I hardly looked like the girl that had been tricked into this jail cell; where once there'd been a wide-eyed, eager young filly with grand plans of escape and justice, I now looked like something different. A little more wild, my coat less polished, my eyes less trusting. I looked like a wild thing. A foundling.

A member of this Lagoon.