03-07-2021, 06:13 PM
The light that meets the dark
For Cheri, the reckless freedom Reave possessed would come in due time. Her petals, unlike his, had not expanded and unfurled with strength; they were slow-moving things, still tethered to their roots in Taiga. He might not think twice about hastily-made decisions, but Cheri could hardly get them out of her mind. She observed him casually once more, the way he shrugged her concerns away with a heft of his narrow, bony shoulders, and watched with a bemused sort of expression as he leapt into the steaming pool. Reave, she thought as she shook water off her head, seems free of chains.
Cheri wasn’t sure if she envied him because of it, or if she pardoned his choices because they were novelty. It was fun to stray far from home for no other reason than the excitement of it, but she glanced back knowingly toward the scrubland obscured by the thick growth of spring-fed trees: if something disturbed them, something bad, her life would be Reave’s to defend. He had powers—Cheri didn’t, and she was far too young to fly away to safety.
She looked back at her cousin waiting, and with a surge of rare terror (the kind that exhilarated the senses, when you trust someone implicitly for no other reason that to trust) Cheri bolted down the short bank and jumped with a childish hop into the springs alongside Reave.
The water felt warm on her skin, prickly like the strange, bulbous plants that grew everywhere here. Cheri delighted in the way it felt on her fur, how it sank into her limbs and permeated the air with a pungently sulfuric taste. There was nothing like this in the entirety of the forest, and after returning Reave’s favor by stomping her hooves and thrashing waves at him, Cheri panted from the exertion and peered down into the impossibly clear pool.
“This was fun. I don’t want to go back, get old, and get stuck in Taiga.” She admitted. “Do you?” The filly asked suddenly, perking her black ears and lifting her face to glance at Reave.
Cheri wasn’t sure if she envied him because of it, or if she pardoned his choices because they were novelty. It was fun to stray far from home for no other reason than the excitement of it, but she glanced back knowingly toward the scrubland obscured by the thick growth of spring-fed trees: if something disturbed them, something bad, her life would be Reave’s to defend. He had powers—Cheri didn’t, and she was far too young to fly away to safety.
She looked back at her cousin waiting, and with a surge of rare terror (the kind that exhilarated the senses, when you trust someone implicitly for no other reason that to trust) Cheri bolted down the short bank and jumped with a childish hop into the springs alongside Reave.
The water felt warm on her skin, prickly like the strange, bulbous plants that grew everywhere here. Cheri delighted in the way it felt on her fur, how it sank into her limbs and permeated the air with a pungently sulfuric taste. There was nothing like this in the entirety of the forest, and after returning Reave’s favor by stomping her hooves and thrashing waves at him, Cheri panted from the exertion and peered down into the impossibly clear pool.
“This was fun. I don’t want to go back, get old, and get stuck in Taiga.” She admitted. “Do you?” The filly asked suddenly, perking her black ears and lifting her face to glance at Reave.
@[Reave]