if you do not have shadows,
you are not in the light
She doesn’t come here for Brine, not initially. Though it would be a lie to say she isn’t casually looking for her mother; a sworn devotee to the shadows.
With each tree the golden child swerves, whispering into caves and calling into the forest.
Nothing, not even a twig snap.
Ruth cannot help but acknowledge the lack of scent her mother is leaving, as if she isn’t here at all.
The filly finds herself walking along the coastal cliffs, leaving the shadows and the usual habitat her mother sought to find the sun and crowd again. Smells intertwine with others and create a plethora of horses all of which are foreign and new.
No Wolfbane, thankfully.
Her stomach churns the closer she gets to Nerine’s centre, steps so slow she could be confused for walking through mud. If someone were to ask, she would likely blame it on a lack of sleep and a lot of running. I am tired, she would excuse.
No, she will not openly admit to the heart-breaking flashback when Lilliana surrendered herself to Wolfbane. Our aspiring soldier felt no comfort in sharing the flaw she found in her otherwise impeccable savior. That is the last thing the copper mare deserved.
But Ruthless felt it fair to hold anger within herself. At least there it is safe, and furtive.
At the sight of Lilliana, Ruthless loses air. It hits her with a wall of emotion, almost to paralyze her to the spot. Is she ready for this? Can she handle this right now? After everything?
“Lilliana,” she placates even with the sizzling boil in her heart, but more words do not follow. She cannot find them; they are buried beneath the numbing ache of her coronet band.
Where Wolfbane had grabbed her.
Ruthless
@[lilliana]