She doesn’t go with them up the mountain.
A part of her yearns to. She wants to see what the gods have wrought from on high. She wants to see the lands she once knew broken and remolded from a serviceable vantage point, to let the anger and betrayal fester in her breast until she can berate Beqanna herself. But the other part of her knows it will do them no favors. Their little band of Daleans (and those who have chosen to join them) is in far too great a need to risk further anger. They have done enough to pull down mountains and flood deserts, apparently, though she’ll never believe that they deserved it.
Talulah waits for them at the base of the mountain. When she sees her family emerge from the mist, their faces tell the story. Relief shines in all of their eyes, the most illustrious light she’s seen by far. She knows, without them saying so, that they will belong somewhere again. That the Dale is gone (for now, she believes, because the alternative is more than she can bear) but another haven awaits them. That they will have each other, still, as well as a place to grow their family.
They go to the coast, to the edge of the haze that darkens the distance. The sea laps at their feet as they stare out across it, a constant tugging that seems to pull them closer. The grey mare almost laughs then at the absurdity of it all. Has Beqanna tricked them? Is she leading them out to their doom (or is she, even now, weeding out the weaker members who attempt the swim – will the doubters sink to their watery, sacrificial deaths?) But the waters beat and churn until they begin to rise up and up. Two parallel waves tower above them, pulled from their race to the shore to expose the stretch of sand beneath. It becomes obvious what they are expected to do.
Wordlessly, they walk across the ocean.
The tang of salt scrubs the bitterness from her tongue as she travels the expanse. She realizes the hurt of losing her home will never go away, but that she must not dwell in her grief, must look forward (as she is doing now). When the last of them steps out onto the new beach and the water falls back over the path with a thunderous crash, she feels cleansed of her doubts; the ocean spits her out raw and renewed.
The island makes it easier to believe everything will be okay. The virgin beauty of the rising forests and the languid curves of land meeting water make her momentarily breathless. It is only when the first words are exchanged that she manages to collect herself. Ashley is even more soaked and bedraggled than anyone, and she joins their laughter at his expense. Her eyes soften, though; if a man is so doggedly determined to get here, surely his intentions are equally unwavering. They are lucky to have him. Her amber eyes settle on Tiphon next, grateful for the way the rigid lines of his face finally relax in the soft glow of their sanctuary. She hasn’t told him about Ramiel yet (she can picture the way he will look then, wonders if she will ever tell him). For now, it is enough to be here. “It is very beautiful,” she says, but it is not the Dale. Her ears catch a strange bird’s call in the swaying forest beyond. “Shall we take a closer look?”
t a l u l a h
metal woman once of the dale