Why was it so difficult to reiterate what he is, a son? Why does the word suddenly taste so strange on her tongue? When she looks at him his eyes have already darted away and she can see the rigidity in his muscles. He is a statue forged by the strongest iron, his muscles chiseled underneath his coat. Cerva notices the change in his demeanor, but forces herself to look away in shame. Had she hurt him? Is there something far deeper brewing in their souls? Her mouth opens to speak, but no words fall. She is at a loss, confused as to where they find themselves in this winter frost while the snow tumbles down on their bodies.
The flakes catch onto her eyelashes but with the gentlest tilt of her head they melt away as her forelock fans across her pretty face. She basks in the silence and waits for him to look at her in which he does fairly quickly. Their eyes meet and electricity course down her spine and through her limbs. A smile – serene and fairly proud – brightens the bark of her lips and her nutmeg eyes. ”I would be excited to show you,” she wants to be more than a meek woman afraid to ever take a chance. She wants to exploit her capabilities and perhaps prove to him that she isn’t a weak mother (but she would be lying to herself). ”You would be more impressed by my family,” she catches herself saying. They are always better than her; Cerva will never escape the shadow that her parents cast. With her gaze drifting to the snow-covered grass she hesitates to reflect on them, but then Dovev asks of himself. Her heart wrenches in her chest. If only she could have a definitive answer for him.
”You don’t need abilities to help,” she doesn’t ask him to elaborate what he plans to help with, ”You are extraordinary even without anything additional.” Unlike her. She would be lost in a crowd if not for her manipulation abilities. Like now, since the Reckoning, she has been forgotten by those she knew. The only one who cares about her is Dovev (is that something to boast about or pity herself for?). ”With time we will discover if you have any abilities like me,” she pivots so that the mountain range is visible in the distance, obscured by gray clouds. ”One day we will take a trip to the Mountain and see if we can have the magic returned to us. Does that sound okay?” They would go together no matter how far into the future that may be.
That one statement seals their – her – fate. She won’t leave him; they will follow in each other’s company until the world has to unwillingly tear them apart.
Inching toward him, Cerva glides the white bark of her muzzle along his neck. ”Come here, Dovev,” a chill rattles her bones, ”I want to hold you.” With the Mountain still towering above them she curls around him and tries to deter the winter cold.
Cerva