07-04-2016, 11:17 PM
How many years I know I'll bear
I found something in the woods somewhere
I found something in the woods somewhere
It has been almost a year since she has set foot outside what has become her cave. The pregnancy had taken quite the toll on the little bay roan mare and left her in a debilitating state of weakness that made her feel like a newborn all over again. It seemed like she had to relearn how to stand and then to walk, tottering about like a small foal when in fact, she had a small foal at her side! Her daughter is nearly grown though and Roan can smell the stink of bitterness that rises off the girl like heat when they are close together and she knows it is because she has been a pathetic excuse of a mother in that first year or so.
Shaking her head very carefully as if the movement pained her - it did; she steps to Brynmor’s side and leans against him, knowing he would not mind (he was ever her shelter in the growing storm of her sickness) and ran her lips against his cheek in the lightest brush of a kiss. “Hi,” she whispered into his skin before laying her own cheek against his shoulder and concentrating on keeping an even keel of standing and breathing and all without that labored feeling of illness riding her hard.
Roan cannot undo what the pregnancy has done to her or the time it has stolen from her. All she can do is accept what has come to pass and that has been a lot of sleep and regaining what frail strength she had to begin with. She is thinner than ever before - alarmingly so though she has eaten all that was within reach of her outstretched neck and what her lover has brought to her. The muddled taste of puddle-water still sits on her tongue and is enough to slake her thirst as she climbs to her feet, slowly but surely, swaying just the slightest as she takes a few clumsy steps from the cave into the outside world. The smell of snow and ice - ever familiar by now - hits her nostrils full on and she sucks an icy breath deep into her lungs until it hurts to hold it and she has to release it out in a whooshing sigh.
She is just in time to hear the loud bellow of summons that the King has released.
It is easy to assume that Brynmor and their daughter are not far behind those that heed the call, if not the first to respond to it. She comes later - much later, slow and bogged down by determination and exhaustion both that slaver like dogs nipping at her heels. The little mare can smell her father nearby too and the scent of him makes memory blossom warmly in her heart and she shuffles forward just a little bit faster, picking her way with great care through the snow and the ice. She hears her lover greet her father and wonders at just how that exchange will go, unknowing that Brynmor has not made Ianto aware of his granddaughter’s presence. What is worse is hearing their headstrong little girl ask permission to join the war caste and Roan has to stifle a gasp. She should not be all that surprised that their daughter would opt for that over something more peaceful and diplomatic because Igni was anything but - she could if she put her mind to it, but Roan knew the girl was built like a warhorse and meant for a life as such.
Shaking her head very carefully as if the movement pained her - it did; she steps to Brynmor’s side and leans against him, knowing he would not mind (he was ever her shelter in the growing storm of her sickness) and ran her lips against his cheek in the lightest brush of a kiss. “Hi,” she whispered into his skin before laying her own cheek against his shoulder and concentrating on keeping an even keel of standing and breathing and all without that labored feeling of illness riding her hard.
Roan