Across the sea
A pale moon rises
The ships have come to carry you home
Epithet and Leola
The shifting of the leaves and the twigs at the entrance of the thicket caused Epithet to become wary. She did not get up, but her muscles tensed, and as Leola got up and tested her legs, it became clear that she was entirely clueless as to what was going on in the outside world. At the entrance, there was one that did not wait to be allowed in, but rather, he made his entrance as soft as he could, his eyes on the mother and child, his wings tucked gingerly into his sides.
Epithet blinked at seeing Akhil. Of course she had hoped she would see him again—but after that one time, she was not sure that she would. Her eyes widened at seeing his wings—for he had had those before the Reckoning—but she says nothing as he views his daughter through the eyes of a father. She sighs, her grey colored pelt rising and falling when he touches her with his nose, calling their daughter by her name. She had always known that she had had to compete for Akhil’s heart, but for the moment, she was content with the role she hoped he would play to their child. Malachai had gone off on his own with little regard for either one of his parents, and had not been seen in ages.
Leola was very much a mumma’s girl. She was aware that she did not look like her mother, but when the big black came into their little corner of paradise, she lifted up her small fuzzy head to try and gain a glimpse of him. Overwhelmed, she squeaked, and fell backwards onto her small rump. Struggling to get up—she’d only just been born—she fluffed up her tail, wiped off her rump, and bounded behind Mumma, staring at the large man before her. “Mumma, he knows my name. How does he know my name, Mumma?”
Epithet chuckled slightly from her place in the dirt, and nuzzled her child on the cheek, turning her soft blue eyes to view Akhil’s face. “Leola, this is your father. And we both love you very much.”
She would talk to Akhil once they made their exit from the thicket, but for now, she could pretend her heart wasn’t the least bit broken by the black stallion’s disappearance. She would be content.
She had to be.
Epithet blinked at seeing Akhil. Of course she had hoped she would see him again—but after that one time, she was not sure that she would. Her eyes widened at seeing his wings—for he had had those before the Reckoning—but she says nothing as he views his daughter through the eyes of a father. She sighs, her grey colored pelt rising and falling when he touches her with his nose, calling their daughter by her name. She had always known that she had had to compete for Akhil’s heart, but for the moment, she was content with the role she hoped he would play to their child. Malachai had gone off on his own with little regard for either one of his parents, and had not been seen in ages.
Leola was very much a mumma’s girl. She was aware that she did not look like her mother, but when the big black came into their little corner of paradise, she lifted up her small fuzzy head to try and gain a glimpse of him. Overwhelmed, she squeaked, and fell backwards onto her small rump. Struggling to get up—she’d only just been born—she fluffed up her tail, wiped off her rump, and bounded behind Mumma, staring at the large man before her. “Mumma, he knows my name. How does he know my name, Mumma?”
Epithet chuckled slightly from her place in the dirt, and nuzzled her child on the cheek, turning her soft blue eyes to view Akhil’s face. “Leola, this is your father. And we both love you very much.”
She would talk to Akhil once they made their exit from the thicket, but for now, she could pretend her heart wasn’t the least bit broken by the black stallion’s disappearance. She would be content.
She had to be.