there's a whisper in my bones
keeping me restless and whole
They are sentinels, the pair of them, but far different in their nature. Hers is the onus of a generation, the teachings of a father who had once stood guard in a distant and forgotten land, tempered only by a mother who had saved him from that life. But there are some things that linger, as though passed along in the very core of their DNA.
There are some things that could never truly be forgotten.
The shadows of the forest wrap around her with familiar coolness. Her steps are light, making little sound on the thick and murky leaf-litter left behind by a fading autumn. There is confidence in her stride, the bearing of someone who has walked this course many times before. Many who linger in the wilds are lost, seeking something they cannot quite name. Istrid is not. She is not certain she has ever been lost, or if she has, it has never felt like it. She does not wander, looking for something greater. She does not dream of a different life.
This is what she has known, and she is content.
Eventually her steady steps lead her from the thinning trees and into the waning grasses of the meadow. Her purposeful stride only falters when she sees another. A mare, her gray and white form still in the cool, early morning air, eyes closed against something Istrid cannot fathom. For a moment something predatory flashes across her features, nostrils flaring as feline eyes gleam. Such a natural response to a creature in distress.
Another moment passes and no trace of the predator remains. Only the face of a lovely mare, antlered head tilting in curiosity. When she finally approaches the stranger, she does so in the same way she does everything else, with purpose and confidence. As she settles a comfortable distance from the other mare, her head tips the other direction, pink eyes unblinking as she studies her.
It isn’t until her silence has stretched slightly too long that Istrid belatedly recalls she should say something. “Hello.”
istrid
@Ethenia