young mare . mutt . black. 16.1h . fell x kohelet . love
It was almost cathartic to talk about why she felt the way she did, to loose the frustration that had been pooling in her chest ever since they came here. She had come to accept that Tefnut may never truly understand why it was that Rethe felt so strongly against the choices she had made, but she felt better for trying to explain it.
Tefnut claims to have no blood ties to any of the islands, but Rethe found she did not agree. Sure, her own ties to Tinuvel were tenfold, through blood and family, but not the least of her ties was familiarity. Rethe was tied to the Bay in large part because she
chose to be tied to the Bay. Even if her father had been the first and her mother had borne no relation to Solomon's legacy, she would have felt forever drawn to this little patch of island. As she looked back, she realized she hadn't done well in explaining that to her friend, either.
"Making this your home doesn't just happen," the black mare blurted out after a moment, her gaze rising to the red mare. She cannot possibly know that Tefnut considers herself a wanderer, that she is actively making herself unhappy by settling down when being a herd leader isn't something she wants. Rethe can only act on the knowledge that she has, and so far as she has seen in every way that Tefnut has shown her, Tefnut wants to lead. To have a family, of some kind.
"You have to choose it." She says, but that's not what she really means.
You have to choose me.
It's not something that Rethe feels comfortable admitting. Playing with flirtation and toying with stallions like Caine are fun games, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't just think Tefnut was pretty. She admired the way the mare acted first, and asked second, even though it also irritated the hell out of her. She loved the way she carried herself, the way she blushed when Rethe flirted with her, the way she was so eager and ready to be happy when it felt like Rethe was always carrying a black cape of mourning on her shoulders.
She was not brave enough to call it love, but it was close enough.