tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us; any

[Saedìs]

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It is his solitude that draws her to him. And she, unable to resist the call, moves through the dew touched grasses to join him. She is not driven by a need to welcome or comfort him from loneliness of the crest of a new day. Saedís desires nothing of his life, his story, of him. In her youthful ignorance she only craves his solitude and silence.  She wonders if he is of the forests and wind too.  Her shoulder moves to bump against him as she joins him. The gesture is not violent. It’s nothing more than a welcome between two horses made only for the silence and the sharp pull of the wind on their tangled manes. She half-smiles for him, her eyes too caught up in the colors of the dawn to pay any real attention to the black stallion with the glowing eyes. Too dreamy, too wistful, too wild, too sad: she is too much of everything to be anything worth while at all. Yet she tries, too young to know better.  “Do you ever wonder what it would be like if there wasn’t anyone else?” She asks in a whisper with a camaraderie she has no right to feel (something dark creeps along her, so out of place with the innocence when she speaks.). Slowly she turns to him, all shivering flesh and wild eyes, finally seeing him. Her eyes widen and her smile brightens (all youthful boldness). Saedís thinks he is surely of the wind and the chaos it brings-- or so she fiercely hopes.  Suddenly she realizes she has ruined the thing she wanted to steal him from and turns back to the dawn. “I’m Saedís.” She offers in some half-apology, only regretting that she has ruined the silence she sometimes craves.  Perhaps it’s not silence she needs-- not now.  SAEDÌS