Gale
this is going to break me clean in two --
this is going to bring me close to you
He often thinks of Ciri when he looks up at the stars. They are so distant, pinpricks in the black sky. So unlike the galaxies that orbited the black mare, but marvelous all the same. His invitation to her - to come visit Hyaline - is not as fond a memory, and as the autumn has cooled to winter he’s even begun to wonder if she’d forgotten about it. That might be for the best, Gale had told himself, and other things have taken his attention since.
He is thinking of those things on this cold winter morning, of the children that grow within Mazikeen’s belly and the future that awaits them. The sound of his name startles him, and he raises his head from where it was tucked against his side.
Gale is perched on a limb near the top of a dead lodgepole pine. The warrior wears the shape of a pine marten, but he retains his blue brindle coloring. His small, sharp eyes peer down toward the earth, and his high vantage point and use of his vision magics make quick work of finding Ciri.
The Curse has learned how to use his Sight, Gale knows, so there’s no longer any risk in using it himself. Gale pointedly is not thinking about this as he scampers down the tree, and accidentally thinks of nothing at all and so arrives in front of the star-strewn mare as a small weasel. His blazed head and twitching pink nose hardly reaching the height of her belly even though he stands on his hind legs.
The marten is undeniably Gale, from the brindle markings to the streak of white fur down the length of his spine, and the eyes that peer up at Ciri are the same clear lightning blue. A pair of shadowy wings appear on his back, and Gale lifts his gaze to see Erne hovering overhead, his black osprey companion’s shadow giving the appearance of wings on his small back.
The two of them converse silently for a while, and Gale momentarily forgets that he’s standing in front of @[Ciri].
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