if you do not have shadows,
you are not in the light
Tensions boil in beckoning taunt, and Ruthless is as still as a deer in headlights.
That is, until she sees Fiorina rise tall with furious courage dripping into the air. Ruth is in awe, dumbfounded by the sheer courage displayed. Her shadowy mother had never risen to warrior, stood to face the demons.
We hide.
We cower.
We run.
It’s all the golden light knows, until now.
Lilliana, though still courteous and polite (as if Ruthless expected any less from the well-versed diplomat) moved ever so slightly closer in show of protection. Bistre eyes swing from mare to mare, a rush of adrenaline and envy pumping through to even the deepest parts of her body. If they do not fear, then I shouldn’t either, she assures herself.
Lilliana will not let Brine down. She will not let the little fawn get swallowed by the bad man.
Her head raises a little higher, trying to subtly mimic the stance of Fiorina. Ruthless has decided to like her, perhaps even admire her. The child ignorant to the opposing thoughts on the ebony mare’s end, is starstruck. As if a real-life super-hero graced the field, and she is lucky enough to witness it first-hand.
And every hero needs a sidekick.
The inevitable dark cloud returns to her mind, though. The minute of glow fading while the tone of Wolfbane changes to a terrifying flatness. The air feels thinner as Ruthless pulls in for breath, even the coolness of night air not enough to soothe her dry throat.
He moves with skill and accuracy, the reach of his tentacles barreling to her with malicious intent. This time she does her best to not let fear overtake her face, as if leaning into Fiorina’s courage and perhaps stand long enough in her presence to feel it too. Larva rears in effort to dodge the missiles aimed through his legs, forgetting about the other tentacle likely through Fiorina now.
It isn’t until she feels the tightness squeeze her coronet band, that realization dawns.
He has me.
She lets out a cry for help in the costume of a high-pitched whinny. Her hooves digging into the sloppy turf beneath her. As if the weight of her petite, adolescent frame will withstand the pull of magic and evil.
“Let go!” She threatens with no idea on how to follow through, but Fiorina has shown her to try and so she does. Her body rises in a half rear, as high as she can get before the force of Wolfbane throws her down. Her free front leg—the left—aims to fall into the flesh of the serpent.
“Lilliana!” She screams enraged and petrified, the demand for change or help or something. Amber eyes narrowed and confused glances back to the chestnut mare, her pretty flame, her glowing aura.
Larva says something, though Ruthless hardly catches his words before he begins to retreat into the forest shadows. She feels her heart sink, as if it hadn’t already fallen into the pit of her stomach.
Who will tell Brine?
Ruthless
@[Fiorina]