07-21-2016, 05:23 PM
Even in the dark she knows his shape, knows the silvery sheen of the moon where it sits in those hollowed out places by his shoulder and flank. She inhales sharply, and those dark eyes flash as she turns to disappear further down the mountain, trailing his pace at a much slower, much less graceful amble. Her belly is full, though not for much longer, and it sways beneath her with the weight of their newest child. She smiles again, and it is a strange thing, full of quiet and longing and perhaps knowing, too. She had been uneasy all day, restless, as the child within shifted and prepared for the next part of her journey into existence. It was a feeling Isle knew well enough to suspect that at some point, beneath the stars or in the watery light of morning, their family would expand again by one.
He disappears into the dim, yawning mouth of a cave, and she can feel her pace quicken reflexively. They had argued the last time they spoke, and it wasn’t world-ending, but that tension between them had sat like a knot in her chest in the many weeks they had been apart. Tonight was the first night she had seen him in what felt like forever, though it really wasn’t at all, and she was eager to fold herself into the curve of his large, dark body so that they might wait for this birth together. For all her faults, all her flaws, all her tendencies to drift as the clouds do, she loved her tundra king.
But when she reaches the mouth of the cave, she forgets all about tucking in close to his side. The first thing she notices is Nevi and Lee, the way they are scrambling apart in the wake of their sudden audience. She might’ve been surprised, or at least more surprised, if it weren’t for the stink of stale, coppery blood that ambushed her the moment she stepped inside. It was at that same moment that her furrowed eyes fell on Offspring, on the fur matted with blood and the wounds that had flayed parts of his dark, scarred body. Her stomach clenches and she thinks her heart might burst for the way it stutters so wildly in her chest, but she goes to him immediately, trembling. Her lips are tentative when they whisper across his shoulder, bolder when they travel along the curve of his neck, urgent when they touch his.
She shifts beside him and her face lifts to catch the red of that searing gaze. But it isn’t pity that sits in her eyes for him to see, it is fear- and she thinks she must finally understand how he felt when his family returned to him broken by wolves. I can’t lose you. She thinks, she dreads, but the words don’t have a chance to leave her selfish mouth because Lee beats her to it. It is only then that she notices the tension that stretches between them. With all the intensity of things left unsaid too long, Lee shatters, and the storm she unleashes is nearly enough to knock Isle off her feet.
Even after the girl has finished, even after there is only a heavy silence, Isle says nothing.
“I let you down.” She says finally, and her voice is a quiet thing, a heavy thing. Her family was her only responsibility, and she had let them down time and time again. She should have been there for the bumps and bruises, reminded them more often than she had that she loved them, that they belonged. But being a mother was not something that came easily to her, it was not some innate instinct buried in the strands of her DNA as it had been for her own mother. She would be there to protect, to defend, but the little things came less easily for someone who hid her heart as readily as Isle did. Her dark eyes slip from Lee to Nevi, where they settle for a moment, and then back again. “Just me.”
She shifts and the movement pulls her away from Offspring, inviting cold tundra air to wedge between them. For another moment she is silent, struggling to find a way to put to words what she is certain each of them already knew and had forgotten in their hurt. It was something Isle knew, something he had warned her of before and she promised him it wouldn’t matter.
He wouldn’t always be able to be there, tucked away with this family. But it wasn’t because he didn’t love them, it wasn’t because he was an absent father. Unlike Isle, his responsibility was to his kingdom, to his people of whom there were many. It was his job to see it grow, his to protect. He made allies and he fought for them. He defended the walls so that many could call it home, so that many could remain safe.
Isle’s eyes are like dark bruises when they lift to Offspring for a second to leech comfort from the familiarity of contrasting red and black. “He isn’t just ours.” Her eyes close, disappearing beneath dark eyelashes as she turns her face from him to look back to Nevi and Lee. “But I should have been more for you.” If only she knew how.
But what Lee says next feels like a slap to the face and it is nearly impossible to keep the hurt from showing, to keep it from simmering into a quiet resentment. “Love isn’t perfect, Lee, nothing in this world is. There is no good without bad. We’re all a little broken, but that doesn’t make us a broken family.” She pauses and the silence feels almost unbearably heavy- and it hurts, it hurts that Lieschel could ever think that Argo and Australis are somehow less because their parents love is imperfect. But she won’t say this, won’t put in stone the things that were said in the moment of a heart breaking. So she slips back to Offspring’s side, leaning as close as she can without bringing more pain to the wounds and bruises dappled across his skin. With her face upturned to his and lips trailing quiet kisses along the curve of his jaw, she whispers, “Even imperfect love is worth fighting for.”
But there is space for like two whole lines.
He disappears into the dim, yawning mouth of a cave, and she can feel her pace quicken reflexively. They had argued the last time they spoke, and it wasn’t world-ending, but that tension between them had sat like a knot in her chest in the many weeks they had been apart. Tonight was the first night she had seen him in what felt like forever, though it really wasn’t at all, and she was eager to fold herself into the curve of his large, dark body so that they might wait for this birth together. For all her faults, all her flaws, all her tendencies to drift as the clouds do, she loved her tundra king.
But when she reaches the mouth of the cave, she forgets all about tucking in close to his side. The first thing she notices is Nevi and Lee, the way they are scrambling apart in the wake of their sudden audience. She might’ve been surprised, or at least more surprised, if it weren’t for the stink of stale, coppery blood that ambushed her the moment she stepped inside. It was at that same moment that her furrowed eyes fell on Offspring, on the fur matted with blood and the wounds that had flayed parts of his dark, scarred body. Her stomach clenches and she thinks her heart might burst for the way it stutters so wildly in her chest, but she goes to him immediately, trembling. Her lips are tentative when they whisper across his shoulder, bolder when they travel along the curve of his neck, urgent when they touch his.
She shifts beside him and her face lifts to catch the red of that searing gaze. But it isn’t pity that sits in her eyes for him to see, it is fear- and she thinks she must finally understand how he felt when his family returned to him broken by wolves. I can’t lose you. She thinks, she dreads, but the words don’t have a chance to leave her selfish mouth because Lee beats her to it. It is only then that she notices the tension that stretches between them. With all the intensity of things left unsaid too long, Lee shatters, and the storm she unleashes is nearly enough to knock Isle off her feet.
Even after the girl has finished, even after there is only a heavy silence, Isle says nothing.
“I let you down.” She says finally, and her voice is a quiet thing, a heavy thing. Her family was her only responsibility, and she had let them down time and time again. She should have been there for the bumps and bruises, reminded them more often than she had that she loved them, that they belonged. But being a mother was not something that came easily to her, it was not some innate instinct buried in the strands of her DNA as it had been for her own mother. She would be there to protect, to defend, but the little things came less easily for someone who hid her heart as readily as Isle did. Her dark eyes slip from Lee to Nevi, where they settle for a moment, and then back again. “Just me.”
She shifts and the movement pulls her away from Offspring, inviting cold tundra air to wedge between them. For another moment she is silent, struggling to find a way to put to words what she is certain each of them already knew and had forgotten in their hurt. It was something Isle knew, something he had warned her of before and she promised him it wouldn’t matter.
He wouldn’t always be able to be there, tucked away with this family. But it wasn’t because he didn’t love them, it wasn’t because he was an absent father. Unlike Isle, his responsibility was to his kingdom, to his people of whom there were many. It was his job to see it grow, his to protect. He made allies and he fought for them. He defended the walls so that many could call it home, so that many could remain safe.
Isle’s eyes are like dark bruises when they lift to Offspring for a second to leech comfort from the familiarity of contrasting red and black. “He isn’t just ours.” Her eyes close, disappearing beneath dark eyelashes as she turns her face from him to look back to Nevi and Lee. “But I should have been more for you.” If only she knew how.
But what Lee says next feels like a slap to the face and it is nearly impossible to keep the hurt from showing, to keep it from simmering into a quiet resentment. “Love isn’t perfect, Lee, nothing in this world is. There is no good without bad. We’re all a little broken, but that doesn’t make us a broken family.” She pauses and the silence feels almost unbearably heavy- and it hurts, it hurts that Lieschel could ever think that Argo and Australis are somehow less because their parents love is imperfect. But she won’t say this, won’t put in stone the things that were said in the moment of a heart breaking. So she slips back to Offspring’s side, leaning as close as she can without bringing more pain to the wounds and bruises dappled across his skin. With her face upturned to his and lips trailing quiet kisses along the curve of his jaw, she whispers, “Even imperfect love is worth fighting for.”