Falls

Though the sting of losing the Thicket was no longer fresh, it still stung like it was. He'd been young and foolish, assumed that his father was the strongest man in the world. Even when he'd worried for him after the storm, he'd though Sephiroth was infallible. The white stallion who had upended his life was still there ghosting his way through the trees that Masamune had memorized as a child. Gwyn was writing over every story Masamune had written across Luthien. It made him angry, but mostly it made him sad. Though Sephiroth seemed happy enough to "retire" from that life, content to spend his time at Vivienne's side, Masamune could not help but wonder where the Thicket would be if things had not ended that way.

Masamune had been the heir. He was not comfortable with the way that thought weighed heavy on his mind. The way it curled around his bones like vines. Though his father had remained on Luthien finding solace with his former allies, Masamune had found that he could not stomach too much time in the Savanna. Zira was kind enough, though he found her a bit rough around the edges, but the open air made his skin twitch. He longed to slink between the trees, dappled beneath the branches of his youth.

So lost in his all consuming headache, Masamune almost didn't notice there was another horse nearby. And when his pale green gaze finally fell on her it was like all the air had gone out of his lungs. She was just as beautiful now as she had been when he'd met her, surrounded by a thousand flowers. She'd disappeared just as quickly as his hopes and dreams for the Thicket and he recoiled into the shadows. Whatever self doubt the falls had eradicated by his walk had come back ten fold. She didn't want to talk to him, he was sure of it.

But as he turned to sulk away, she chased after him. He halted, his ears flicking back briefly as he steadied his breathing before he turned around. "I'm afraid I don't," he says sadly, a strange sense of deja vu falling over him. The Thicket, he thought to himself, was full of shelter. But the rain-slicked falls were not. "Well," he says, almost hesitantly, "there is a cave. It's behind one of the falls but it's dry." Truth was, that's where Masamune had been holed up during the storms, but he was due to get out and stretch his legs for at least a few hours. It wasn't much of a shelter but it was something and he supposed if he found that it shouldn't be too hard to find another.