hold my hand, it's a long way down to the bottom of the river
She is transfixed by his perfectness, hypnotized by the rhythmic rise and fall of his ribcage as he remains nestled beside her. It feels impossible to look away, impossible to look anywhere but the shape of his dark eyes and the delicate curve of his wobbling ears, to trace the angles of his delicate face and the curl of eyelashes as black as soot. This feeling is incredible, if not unbelievable, that she could ever be capable of making anything so perfect, of deserving this new life that feels so dangerously like a piece of heaven carved out especially for her. Yet here he is, and he is everything, and she is certain her heart will burst within the walls of her chest for how it thrums there so wildly.
Then Offspring is beside her and she knows her heart has indeed burst because there is only a warm weightlessness blossoming there as she turns to press a quick, tired kiss to the soft hollow just above his mouth. She hadn’t realized quite how tired she was until he had joined them by the softly lit mouth of their cave. But his closeness soothes her, it settles the tumble of tumultuous emotion churning in her belly and so she leans greedily closer still, soaking up the affection he so readily rains down upon her. Borrowing this strength, she struggles to her feet, swaying a little with exhaustion until she can lean against him for a moment. But then he says something that coaxes a shiver of delight down the length of her narrow spine and she turns her face quickly to his, touching her nose to the black fur along his heavy jaw.
“And I, you, Offspring.” She whispers back as her nose drops to his muzzle so that she can leave kisses like promises against the satin of his dark skin. “I will love you for the rest of my days.” She pauses to peer up at him, her dark eyes soft and kind in their tiredness, and she wonders if he knows how deeply she cares for him. It is not just carnal pleasures, not a passion like wildfire that burns too hot too fast only to die out in the end. Hers is a love that burns like the sun. It is bright and steady, as steady as she knows how to be, and it is forever because once it ends there will be nothing else. Her heart quivers in her chest and she reaches out once more to touch him, to taste him, to feel wholly bewildered that she could ever deserve someone like him, a love like this.
Then she pulls away from him again, inching carefully closer to their perfect son so that she can touch her lips to the white on his damp forehead, can tousle the soft tuft of forelock between his ears with a puff of breath from her nose. She can remember how cold she felt as a child, how different this world was from the one everyone came from. She longs to lay back down beside him, to curl protectively around his small, dark body and ward off the cold and the unknown with touches and kisses and promises of love. But instinct warns her that he needs to stand, to nurse, so she remains standing as she nuzzles his shoulder and his hip, encouraging him with gentle nickers to unfold those spindle legs and thrive.
Isle
