The trees have become all but bare, the chill fingers of winter slowly stretching her fingers over the land. The dusky pewter stallion lingers beneath those boughs, staring north as thoughts tumble through his mind. He had left the cozy warmth of his small glenn, leaving his youngest daughter in the safe embrace of Ilka. The thought of beautiful little Peridot curled up against his Ilka sends warmth through his belly, into his heart. He loves them so fiercely, would do anything for them. Even now, he doesn’t particularly wish to leave, had left them with what shadowy protection he could summon.
And yet this oddly persistent feeling that something is not quite right still lingers.
It has been too long since he last visited Nerine. Since he last visited his mother. The thought of the fierce, loving woman who had raised him stirs him into motion, his feet turning north along a familiar trail. Perhaps she could quell the unfamiliar disquiet inside of him.
Soon the thick of the wood gives way to the curves of the river. From there the land turns rocky, hilly, until he makes his way to the coast, following it’s uneven arch until he reaches the borders of the northernmost kingdom. His gaze, warm, the color of the richest chocolate, surveys the coastal kingdom. Taking in the rocky cliffs and endless beaches. For a moment, he wonders about his eldest daughter, vibrant and wild and so fiercely independent (and he wonders about her twin, the son he hasn’t seen in years). Perhaps their paths would cross. Perhaps not. He never knows with her.
After only a moment’s pause, he continues forward. Scorch has never been difficult to find. With her sharp vision and strangely intuitive sense, no doubt she already knows of his presence. And sometimes, no matter how old one gets, a mother’s wisdom is all one really needs to soothe ancient fears.
And yet this oddly persistent feeling that something is not quite right still lingers.
It has been too long since he last visited Nerine. Since he last visited his mother. The thought of the fierce, loving woman who had raised him stirs him into motion, his feet turning north along a familiar trail. Perhaps she could quell the unfamiliar disquiet inside of him.
Soon the thick of the wood gives way to the curves of the river. From there the land turns rocky, hilly, until he makes his way to the coast, following it’s uneven arch until he reaches the borders of the northernmost kingdom. His gaze, warm, the color of the richest chocolate, surveys the coastal kingdom. Taking in the rocky cliffs and endless beaches. For a moment, he wonders about his eldest daughter, vibrant and wild and so fiercely independent (and he wonders about her twin, the son he hasn’t seen in years). Perhaps their paths would cross. Perhaps not. He never knows with her.
After only a moment’s pause, he continues forward. Scorch has never been difficult to find. With her sharp vision and strangely intuitive sense, no doubt she already knows of his presence. And sometimes, no matter how old one gets, a mother’s wisdom is all one really needs to soothe ancient fears.
All things are possible,
shahrizai
even the best of things.
@[Scorch]