Take notice of what light does...to everything.

[Brine]

Brine

And all of the sudden, a party unraveling before her before she even has time to process.

Perhaps, though, this is a good thing. It gives her less time to run, and forces her to be the adult she has to be for the little light now dwindling in uncertainty as Brine tries to make sense of her words. Had she said that out loud? Did Aten judge her?

Ruth takes a few steps backwards, letting the feelings process through her stomach and up into her throat. For a minute, she understands the overwhelming anxiety that shadows her mother every day. She feels it like a heavy blanket, suffocating her positivity and exhaling a cool, judgmental air that sets across her spine and hindquarters.

What would her mother do, without the constant heat of Ruthless warming her like a cold-blooded reptile to motivate and move to survive. Would this Lilliana and Eurwen be enough? Would they warm her and remind her that she is safe?

What would Ruthless do if the job of caring was taken away? It’s all she knows.

That’s her mom.

Would that change?

Her eyes cast over to her mother, seeing as Brine adapts to the attention swarming her like bees on honey. They may not notice, but Brine softens at the presence of Lilliana. A familiarity wafts over her as she remembers the chestnut mare from only a year prior, when Ruthless had been a newborn exploring the meadow with a warm ray of sunshine igniting her golden back.

“Lilliana,” Brine exhales. A comforting face, someone who not too long ago extended her offer of safety and promise. “Hello again.”

The newest mare—Eurwen—seemed welcomed by others, so at the very least Brine can accept her into the circle knowing that others deemed her fit. The shadowed mother holds strong in her stance, though every inch of her is begging to hold Ruth close in these unchartered waters.

Ruthless—gathering her emotions and processing the overwhelming guilt setting across her shoulders—ignores Lilliana’s question regarding her wings momentarily. She turns to her mother, doe eyes and a lowered head in fear of the verdict; the jury in discussion, the soft buzz of concerned murmurs whispering across the otherwise silent court room.

“I don’t really want to go without you,” she softly voices, uncertainty and confusion wiped on her expression, a face the little light child has not grown used to.

For a moment, her light becomes a smolder.

“Oh, little Ruth,” Brine moves over to the palomino filly, who has replaced the radiation of excitement with ambiguity. “Every child eventually outgrows the comfort of their mom, and you outgrew me the minute you were born. It’s your time now, and even if I am not with you every day, I am with you in heart always.

“Look at how fun Kalil must have with other friends his age. I am sure he would like you as a friend,” And for the first time ever, Brine feels accomplished. Accomplished in her parenting, in her mentoring, in her support. Confident in her deliverance, her wording, her decision.

Ruthless lingers, processing the calmness Brine has offered.

“I do not want to,” a pout surely would form if horses were capable of such advanced expressions, the immaturity of a child blossoming after so many days of having to be the caregiver instead of the cared for. Ruthless, after all, is only a year old with the miles and knowledge of a wise, old soul.

“Off you go,” she nudges her little golden child at the shoulder, pushing her forward in encouragement not force. “I will visit you often, as a good mother should.”

And with that, the shadow and light separates. After competing for night and day, the war ends in not a choice—before blood sheds and survivors tremble—but a compromise.

“Lilliana, Eurwen. If you do not mind, what is the way?” She shifts her attention to the other mares, not entirely satisfied—in fact, probably the complete opposite—but hopeful, hopeful that as a mother she is making the right decision for her baby Ruth. Confident that without her, Ruthless can thrive into the woman Brine was never able to be.

Confident that her shadows would no longer suffocate the last life of flame burning.

take notice of what light does—to everything

@[Eurwen] @[lilliana] @[Aten]