02-27-2021, 06:50 PM
despite the overwhelming odds, tomorrow came
Our elation quickly turned to a mess of emotions being tumbled around and thrown in every direction from the wholly overwhelmed mother that had returned without her children. I couldn’t blame Amarine one bit for any of it, and I allow her emotions to roll through me. They are difficult to bear, but my understanding allows me to bear them with grace and dignity. As I watch her stumble away into the darkness, I understand her need to be free of everything this little gathering had thrown upon her shoulders. The children were safe, and no doubt she trusted her family to attend to them as needed (though Yanhua was, perhaps, more in need of attending to than the twins). Still, my heart aches as I watch her disappear, swallowed by the shadows that had been nothing short of a nightmare these last few weeks. I wish there was more I could do for my friend: take away every emotion, every hint of distress and relief, so that she could feel nothing, but that would prove beyond my capabilities.
Instead, I turn my attention to the two fillies who appear from the shadows, Cheri first, with wisps of light emanating from her back in the shape of wings, then Memorie, only visible by the soft glow that comes off her half-sister and father. Despite the wave of relief that came from Mem’s echo, it is different to actually see her half sister appear from the shadows, and a weight lifts from my shoulders that had been there for longer than I could bear it. A hefty sigh falls from my lips, and Memorie presses herself to my side comfortingly.
For now, I have no words. A part of me wishes I could follow Amarine into the shadows to find relief in my own company, but somehow I know that my family would need me right now, and so I stay, waiting for someone else to say something to fill my silence.
As Yanhua turns, I gently reach out and press my nose to Memorie’s shoulder, urging her to follow. I then do the same to Cheri and Reynard in turn, pressing them to follow as well, and soon we are moving together through the giant redwoods that shelter us from the worst of the world. Yanhua speaks, and I listen, silently agreeing that we need to stick together. I am unprepared for him to turn to me, however, and I lift my head in response, despite the exhaustion that rolls through my bones and bids me keep my head down. I sigh softly. “Yes, we should stick together,” is all I could find it within myself to say. With that said, though, I throw a glance back over my shoulder in the direction that Amarine had disappeared from. What would happen to the butterfly mare? Memorie seems to understand, and she leaves a soft trace of emotional residue along the path that Amarine could follow when she feels ready. The empathic mare would be able to sense it, at least I could hope. I hope, also, that she would follow soon.
I find myself needing some comfort, comfort that Memorie could not give me in that moment, so I move forward to Yanhua. I lean my shoulder gently against his side, hanging my head so that my nose brushes the base of his neck. Somehow, I feel more exhausted now than before, despite my joy to find my family in tact. But I guess that’s understandable, now that all the hubbub has died down.
Meanwhile, Memorie moves to be near her half-siblings. She emanates a soft sense of relief as she gently touches each behind the ears, Cheri first, then Reynard, and I find myself glad that she could be born in the same era as the twins. What would she have been without her siblings?
Instead, I turn my attention to the two fillies who appear from the shadows, Cheri first, with wisps of light emanating from her back in the shape of wings, then Memorie, only visible by the soft glow that comes off her half-sister and father. Despite the wave of relief that came from Mem’s echo, it is different to actually see her half sister appear from the shadows, and a weight lifts from my shoulders that had been there for longer than I could bear it. A hefty sigh falls from my lips, and Memorie presses herself to my side comfortingly.
For now, I have no words. A part of me wishes I could follow Amarine into the shadows to find relief in my own company, but somehow I know that my family would need me right now, and so I stay, waiting for someone else to say something to fill my silence.
As Yanhua turns, I gently reach out and press my nose to Memorie’s shoulder, urging her to follow. I then do the same to Cheri and Reynard in turn, pressing them to follow as well, and soon we are moving together through the giant redwoods that shelter us from the worst of the world. Yanhua speaks, and I listen, silently agreeing that we need to stick together. I am unprepared for him to turn to me, however, and I lift my head in response, despite the exhaustion that rolls through my bones and bids me keep my head down. I sigh softly. “Yes, we should stick together,” is all I could find it within myself to say. With that said, though, I throw a glance back over my shoulder in the direction that Amarine had disappeared from. What would happen to the butterfly mare? Memorie seems to understand, and she leaves a soft trace of emotional residue along the path that Amarine could follow when she feels ready. The empathic mare would be able to sense it, at least I could hope. I hope, also, that she would follow soon.
I find myself needing some comfort, comfort that Memorie could not give me in that moment, so I move forward to Yanhua. I lean my shoulder gently against his side, hanging my head so that my nose brushes the base of his neck. Somehow, I feel more exhausted now than before, despite my joy to find my family in tact. But I guess that’s understandable, now that all the hubbub has died down.
Meanwhile, Memorie moves to be near her half-siblings. She emanates a soft sense of relief as she gently touches each behind the ears, Cheri first, then Reynard, and I find myself glad that she could be born in the same era as the twins. What would she have been without her siblings?
borderline
