ShopDreamUp AI ArtDreamUp
Deviation Actions
Literature Text
Magdalene had made a stupid mistake. The appaloosa loner had been so certian that her old paths through the Eastern Isle would be safe, and that unfounded security had almost cost them everything. If she hadn't heard the scout patrol's voices, if she'd taken just one more step and breached the treeline...
It hadn't been safe to skirt them. Of the Bachelors she'd been able to see, there had been at least eight. There was no telling how many more had lurked in the wood, so Magdalene had turned and swatted Judith's side with her multi-toned tail, communicating without words that the filly needed to tread lightly, silently. Together they had backtracked, through the trees and brush, moving as quietly as whispers. Every hair on Magdalene's body had felt like it was standing straight, bristled like a prickly porcupine in threat response. She had not been so close to Bachelor stallions in years, and the close call had left her unnerved and increasingly paranoid as day gave in to warm night.
They hit the the Summer Fields a few hours after darkfall. Magdalene signaled for Judith to tuck herself into the treeline's thick shrubbery, and then stepped out into the open meadow, head tucked low and every muscle tense. She remembered these fields, remembered the fireflies that flickered like earthly stars in the summer heat, and the nocturnal creatures that scuttled away from her footsteps.The green, lush grass made her mouth water. Perhaps if it was safe, they would pause here to eat, fill their bellies a bit before they continued on. They had to be clear of the Summer Fields before dawn; at this time of year there were simply too many mares in the meadows, and Magdalene had known more than one slave who would betray a stranger's presence to earn favor.
Magdalene's heart leapt into her throat as she caught the sound of hoofbeats. Her head whipped in the direction of the noise as her ears pinned tight to her skull, senses growing acute on a surge of panic. Was it a scout, making sure the broods were all in their proper place? If it was just the one stallion, she might be able to fight her way out of the encounter. He likely wouldn't expect her particular brand of violent resistance, and surprise was always a good upperhand. If she could just get him down and out for a few precious minutes-
Wait.
She recognized that spotted coat.
The herd was abuzz with the upcoming war - the stallions were at their finest, sparring with one another on a regular basis, earning new scars to scare those that would come and seek to destroy them. Even the weakest of the herd looked somehow battle-worthy as they dripped with fresh blood, tufts of mane missing from the crests of their necks. That was the way of the Bachelor herd, and that was how she had been raised. For 38 years she had seen all the scarred faces come and go, and she realized now that soon she might not see some of them ever again. Surely they would be replaced with a wash of new scarred faces, as it always went. She had created her fair share, the herd was littered with her sons now. And only her sons. With hardened eyes, she glanced at the few that she could see now, their spotted pelts as familiar as her own, every one in their place. She scarcely knew some of them, but she loved them all. Even those that had forgotten her, so swept away in their own lives, their futures as part of the herd. Futures that -mattered-.
That was the price she paid for the life she got to keep, and each year one was taken from her, by the stallions or by Death himself, whenever it was convenient to Him. Sheva would never know whether it was worth it or not, for the answer always changed. She tried not to think about it, and in doing so, made her escape. Like her adoptive 'babies', the mare had a fondness for leaving, however she would always return. There was no purpose for her outside of this herd, there was no one to love or appreciate her. If she did anything right, it was teaching the young mares how to cope. It made her feel...wanted. Yet, she still needed to leave on occasion, and escape the press of the herd. It was especially necessary now that the war was coming, as tensions were high and morale was low. Cain was doing his best to keep everyone on task, but even his most loyal of followers needed a vent for their frustrations. It was more than she could bear.
This was her respite before the war, her final visit to the Outside, for who knew what would come once Olde was marching on them from the North. A sigh escaped her lips as she focused her eyes in the darkness and pressed forward. Yet another familiar, spotted form crept before her vision. However something twinged in her mind, for it was not a son. But a friend. A friend she had lost a while ago to the birth of a filly. It cannot be... Sheva thought, though she inched a bit closer, her eyes squinting in the dark, the fireflies flitting about only making her focus more difficult. "...Magdalene?" she spoke, her voice hushed and urgent, her scarlet eyes suddenly shifting for fear of a follower. She could deal with the stallions herself, but if this WAS her old...friend would be a strong turn of phrase...Sheva worried what would happen then.
Magdalene did not immediantly reply. Her notched ears were perked forward, straining to listen over the hum of crickets and her own shuddering breath, searching the darkness behind the familiar mare for an unwelcomed third or, unicorns forbid it, fourth. When no lurker made themselves apparent, she relaxed-- and then an entirely new grip of emotion pushed her right back to the edge.
"Sheva."
She looked at the mare. Really looked at her. It was difficult to paint a picture by the light of the moon and the unreliable flicker of fireflies, but she could make out the old scars. Though she'd tried to forget, she remembered the day Sheva had acquired them. She'd been a pathetic thing, limping into the meadow with her face torn and her sides heaving, blood running down her legs and chest like glittering veins of ore. The broods had turned away. She had turned away, too, heeding the advice of the mare watching her that evening. It's none of our business, she'd said. The memory still made Magdalene flinch; she wished she had not turned away. They had not been friends, not then, but it had been cruel betrayal in hindsight, bitter tasting on the tongue.
"... Told you a long time ago," She said at length, "to call me Mags."
Her gray eyes shifted away, to anywhere else. She couldn't look at Sheva. That first betrayal had not been the last, perhaps it had not even been the worst. She had left, stealing away with her newborn before they'd ever had a chance to bid one another goodbye. For thirteen years, Magdalene had resigned herself to the idea that she'd never see her friend again.
"I." She began, and stopped. "How have you been?" She grimaced. The question was positively ludicrous in light of the situation, and she knew it. Her awkwardness was atrocious at the best of times and only amplified by her fraying nerves. She'd begun to shake, muscles quivering under her sparsely spotted coat despite the warm night that was sticky with humidity. Get a grip, she thought desperately.
The silence was overpowering, a void calling her to speak more, pulling words from her though she did not will it so. Thankfully, though, it ended before she could speak again, and in the most positive way possible. A rush of calm fell over her, for this was no threat. She could not imagine the mare before her having such a change of heart, or if she did, to be so cruel and daring as to alert Sheva's rulebreaking to anyone of consequence. The Knabstrupper mare inched closer, curiosity on her face as she tried to sense what was going on in the other spotted mare's mind, however she would never fathom it. A chuckle sprang from her lips at Mags' awkward statement, it seemed utterly out of place after not seeing one another for so long, and after such a pregnant pause.
Magdalene's averted eyes gave Sheva some pause as her neediness kicked in. What did I do now? She found herself questioning, wishing that this could be easier, not complicated by years of separation and strife, a complete vanishing. At least Sheva knew the mare hadn't been killed when she and the filly made their escape. None of the stallions had come back /that/ happy. And the lady brood couldn't blame her friend for not returning for all those years, for if she were to be captured again, it spelled only misery. However this aversion was inexplicable to Sheva, and the mare felt an overwhelming crash of uncertainty, though she stuffed it down as she always did. Mamas never showed that they were scared.
The question made her laugh again, perhaps more a pathway for her nerves to find release than a true laugh, and she took it upon herself to get much closer. Silence was better in these situations, and proximity was better for whispers. "Oh, it's all peachy in the herd, Mags. She drawled for emphasis, giving the other mare a knowing look. "Though I have to say, this is the best time to be a Bachelor mare. The new leader is soft on us." She chuckled again, thinking about Cain and his subtle decrees that were starting to tear the herd down. "He's Keturah's son." The Lady then added with a conspiratorial grin, knowing what impact that would have on her old comrade of sorts.
"But what are you doing here?" She asked, her tone going more serious as her scarlet eyes passed over the quivering form of Magdalene. "You know you're too close." A statement, not a question.
Magdalene's ears twitched when she caught the vivacious mare's laugh. The sound was calming. It was familiar, even though she hadn't felt her friend's laugh flutter around in her chest for over a decade. She suddenly felt like a young girl again, listening to Sheva's latest tidbit of gossip or feeling the burn in her stocky legs as she tried to keep up with her cohort. The good memories flooded into her and through her, chasing away the darker recollections like a shaft of light piercing an overcast sky.
Sheva was not cross with her. She did not feel betrayed, though she had every right in the world to do so. Mags considered it more forgiveness thaN she deserved, and yet she was still grateful for it, desperately happy in a way she didn't often experience. The former brood relaxed, weight falling on her front hooves as her neck released its tension. Finally, she raised stone-colored eyes to look at the friend she had not expected to ever see again, and for the first time, she allowed herself to feel the pain that had caused. Feel it, and let it go.
Perhaps she even smirked a little. Wouldn't that be a first.
Her ears perked as the Kabstrupper spoke. There was a new-to-Sheva notch in the left one, a by-product of an encounter with grass beasts. Old and well healed, if looks were anything to go by. "Right, of course." She replied in a whisper, voice with the barest sliver of mirth. It was a significant display of emotion for the appaloosa, all things considered. "I almost miss the lecherous stares sometimes. Really brings a tear to my- what?" The mare's head cocked, brows knitting as her eyes turned to slivers of gray. A new leader, one who was 'soft' with the broods?
Magdalene quite nearly accused her friend of yanking her chain, but the Lady's next words saw her freeze, mismatched nostrils flaring with shock and a stab of emotional pain that felt like a lung shot. Beautiful, frail Keturah had been a mother to the messenger, perhaps not in name but absolutely in spirit. She had loved the mare as she'd loved no one else until the day of Lilith's birth. Recalling those final days was painful twenty years later. Sometimes, she fancied the smell of sickness was still in her nose, as burned into memory as the sight of her maternal figure's final breath.
The appaloosa gave herself a sharp shake that scattered fireflies. "Her son..." She repeated the words as though she couldn't quite believe it, and then her brow furrowed further yet. "But she never told me- he is your leader?" Magdalene paused, searching Sheva's face for any sign of playful deceit, though she knew in her heart she wouldn't find it. Her friend would not make jest of such a thing. Not to her. "So a child of Keturah's now leads the same stallions that kept her captive. Does he not know?" She stamped a hoof, momentarily indignant and...
And then it dawned on her. Her expression went blank with shock. Of course he knows.
Sheva's next words drew her out of her statuesque stance, eyes refocusing on the Lady's face. "I do." She admitted, and her ears pinned, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "We didn't have a choice. There were Scouts the usual route, too many to chance strafing."
Sheva had the lack of grace to look proud of herself, happy that she could deliver such astonishing information. If she had known of her old friend's job description, surely a harping would need to be done about the mare's distinct lack of juicy herd gossip. The stocky Knabstrupper puffed up a little bit, her chest out and a smile sliding easily onto her features, lips curling just enough to reveal the gap in her front teeth. However when her scarlet eyes opened again, she realized the pain that Mags suffered at the loss of the white Marwari mare, and deflated slightly, brows knitting. Sheva had known Keturah as well, just as long as Mags did, however with her own dynamics in play, she hadn't quite sought out a motherly figure as much as her companion had.
Sheva nodded slightly at Magdalene's question, however she didn't know how much detail the stallion had. He was rather close-lipped about himself and his past, and all questions about his mother were very pointed. Cain did not mince words, nor did he let anyone in. It was a peculiar trait, but she had faith in him. There was something heroic about him, deep, deep, deep down inside of that frail frame of his.
"You must be feelin' lucky to be travelling South right now. If I were a Loner, I'd be staying put - outta sight." Sheva murmured, her ears flicking back in a moment of nervousness as she cast a glance over her shoulder again - back to the herd, back to the war. "They're all coming for us. The Exiles, Olde." The Lady released a bark of a laugh as she scratched the top of her head with her knee awkwardly. "This isn't a safe place, now more than ever. The Bachelors will seem kind in comparison to what Olde will do to us." A shiver ran down her spotted spine as she willed the images away, the only images that she could picture to go with what was bound to happen. Running seemed good, hiding even better. But they would catch her, as they always did. No one ever really escaped.
In an effort to try to clear her head, Sheva's scarlet eyes cast around for any other topic, before finding another little soul, the 'we'. "She's still alive..." Sheva said with tender voice, her head cocking slightly, before she realized what an awkward statement that was and looked back to Magdalene. "I wasn't sure she'd make that swim when you escaped, but I hoped...when no bodies washed up."
"Mm." Magdalene eloquently grunted. She knew of the coming war, had heard dark whisperings among the herds. It hadn't surprised her; ancient tension would always come to a head, boiling over into violence sooner or later. She'd felt a sardonic pity for Olde. The Bachelors were going to destroy them, and there wasn't an Exile in the world that could turn the odds in their favor. Their people were wet behind the ears and laughably fragile, their king too soft. He did not expect the same excellence- the same sacrifice- as the Bachelor's Elites. The stallions of the East Island had legendary strength, as irritating as it was to admit. "There's little chance of victory for Olde. Barring that the Great Conversationalist or whatever the hell he is doesn't come rising from the sea, the Elites will grind their knights to dust."
Even if by some unlikely chance that Olde succeeded, Magdalene had assumed that the broodmares would be safe. She didn't care a whit what happened to the stallions, but surely Vasska would look upon the slaves as pitiable victims to be coddled and turned free. As Magdalene watched fret cross her friend's expression, however, the worry turned contagious.
"We were both half-dead by the time we reached the South." She admitted as Sheva's words turned to Keziah, and her own face softened as she flicked her gaze to the treeline. She pursed her lips and called to her daughter with a birdsong, and Keziah dutifully came, a tiny shadow moving through the grass. The filly parked herself between Magdalene's front legs. She was too tall for the position by an inch, gangly knees bent to compensate. She peered up at Bat-Sheva with curiosity and no small amount of confusion, for her mother had never willingly drawn her into the presence of another horse.
Magdalene nipped one of her ears. "Say hello before Bat-Sheva thinks I didn't raise you to have manners."
"Hello." The filly acquiesced, and then darted backwards, finding a new and thoroughly ineffective hiding spot in Magdalene's tail.
The appaloosa snorted, fell quiet, and then took a step closer to the Lady Brood. "You could come with us. You should." She offered, the invitation surprising even herself. She had never agreed to company before, seeing it as only a hindrance, an inconvenience that could compromise Keziah's safety. But she had abandoned Sheva once already, and she would not do it second time. "She taught me the old paths. I know how to keep us of their reach, how to survive without a herd. You would be safe. With the stallions rallying for war, they won't notice for several hours." Her nostrils flared, bloody pumped with the same anxiety she'd felt on the night she'd fled with her daughter.
If only the Bachelors had the luxury of gods and unicorns - it was almost laughable, even to Sheva, to think of such a thing. Olde lived in the lap of luxury, but to her, it sounded boring and strict. With Delilah coming in willingly with tales of the North, Sheva knew she would prefer death to life on the Isle of Olde, and the thought made her give a little shiver of apprehension. "Cain is determined to win this thing, even if it ain't his war. The Elites are the same, for all the reasons you can imagine." She murmured in a strange sort of assent to Magdalene's assessment, trying to envision it. She had no ill will toward the misguided, brainwashed herd that marched on them. They were mothers and children too. Surely some of them even had hearts under that cloak of piety and rigid structure.
The train of thought was derailed by the whistle that Mags made, and a deepening of the shadows beyond. Sheva's muscles thought to tense for a moment, but they relaxed, knowing the company she kept. Magdalene would never be so careless as to put herself in danger - it seemed that trait was even more apparent now, if possible. Self-preservation was one of the harder things to let go of. Bat-Sheva's brilliant red eyes fell upon the filly that stood awkwardly in front of her mother, a little too large to be a baby, but a little too gangly to be an adult. A smile crept across the older mare's face, allowing a peek of the gap between her teeth. "Don't you worry about that, darlin'. It's hard to find one of my boys that has a touch of 'em at all." Sheva said dismissively, crooking a leg for emphasis. "I do have one about her age though. If you ever wanna be thinkin' about a match. He's even growin' up sweet." Her youngest boy, having just turned 13, had miraculously stayed as loving as when he was born. Sheva wondered if she was setting him up for a hard life, but there was something in her that couldn't let him go.
You should come with us... swam through her brain for a second, but her body was already responding with a vehement shake of the head. "You don't know the herd anymore Mags. You wouldn't believe it if I told you." She said with a chuckle, and a sad smile. "But I can't leave it. I can't leave my babies, my sons...my sister. It's my whole world." She said with a strange softness in her voice, and a crinkle to the sides of her eyes. "There are too many I'd want to take with me - many more that need the out more than I." Cain was trying to both keep the peace and turn the Bachelor herd on its head, and thus progression was slow, too slow for some. The recent captures were just so fragile..."With the stallions rallying for war, they wouldn't notice an intruder either. Anyone who isn't one of us is assumed an Exile, you could walk right into the herd with not a word." Sheva countered, her eyes brightening a bit. "There's so much you've missed!"
Magdalene found herself falling into some strange middle ground between relaxed and alert. Sheva's easy smile and gentle drawl had always had a way of putting others at ease. The younger appaloosa suspected Empathy was afoot, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it popped into her head. Sheva wouldn't entice her to let down her guard in a situation like this. Moreover, she remembered her youth being plagued with fluttering eyelashes and a wry grin crooning please, and all the unfortunate situations they'd gotten her into. Sheva had called them adventures; Magdalene had insisted she was missing a prefix for the word. Time had only made their misadventures more horrifying as Magdalene realized how close they'd come to being eaten. Twice.
She couldn't honestly say she regretted a single one of them.
Sheva's refusal to be uprooted brought her violently back to the present. A stitch formed in her chest at the reasoning, because of course. Her friend would never abandon her family, and unicorns only knew how many sons and daughters she had by now. Magdalene felt wretched for even proposing it, for she herself would have certainly taken offense were the roles reversed. "Wasn't thinking." She grunted. Now would be the time to lose her head, she supposed. "Of course you'd want to stay with your babies." Her pink nose scrunched in feigned distaste. "And Lilith. She must be less obnoxious these days."
Oh, yes, she remembered Sheva's younger sister. That one had been their little shadow, interjecting herself into any wiggle room she could find. Magdalene still couldn't say she'd ever seen a better impression of a lost grassbeast pup.
Magdalene shifted her weight as Sheva countered with a suggestion of her own, and the thought of marching into the thick of the Bachelors had the messenger feeling wry enough to smirk. "I don't suspect I'll miss what I've missed." She admitted, cocking her head in a way that was almost playful. She hadn't traded quips in a long time, but she trusted Sheva would forgive the rust on her wit. "Eh, too many bodies in one place. Gives me the jitters... always did. More so now, I imagine. Besides, Ghost'll know me. I'll assume that letting me by without incident was a one time charity on his part.
"But Sheva," She continued, settling a slate gray stare of brilliant red as the topic returned to something far more somber, "when these stallions are killing each other, where are you going to be?" Her brow knit. "Tell me you're going to be safe."
Sheva was too busy off in her own head, probably reminiscing more fondly about the same past events that Magdalene was thinking tentatively on. While their safety wasn't always guaranteed, they always came out relatively unscathed. Relatively being the optimal word. Sheva had become a good deal more responsible as her age advanced, at least when she was dragging others along. Getting Elowen nearly swallowed up and killed in the marshes had really driven home that idea, as she regretted it on a daily basis. So many others were so fragile, but Mags had always been her match, even if it was reluctantly. Even when they were up to their eyeballs in trouble, one of them would always come out the stronger to save the other pain or shame. A little smile curled her lips, though it faded as Magdalene grunted out her response, shame coloring her speech.
Sheva, having developed a rather blase outlook, taking little to heart, didn't realize the source of the shame for a moment until Mags mentioned her babies. She wondered how much she'd really be needed. Surely the young ones would suffer the most, though her older sons never failed to protect the younger it would seem. Was her presence so necessary? Yes. Or so she wanted to believe. Her mind wasn't given the time to sink into that black hole of sadness before she nearly choked on her own tongue at Mags' mention of Lilith. Bat-Sheva shoved down a laugh into her continued choking, and bobbled her head this way and that. "She's followin' her own path now, so I guess by default that makes her less obnoxious, right?" She responded, not really knowing what to say. Lilith had certainly come into her own, and the times that she was a thorn in hers' and Mags' sides seemed a distant memory that was hard to recall. They were friends, and quite close emotionally, though their social spheres had very little overlap. Sheva's mind had taken on a political bent, if only for self-preservation and secondly for the preservation of others, while Lilith lived in the moment and took care of her own.
Ghost. She had forgot about their involvement, but how could she have? The evidence of which was standing before her now, spotty and...drafty. Sheva smiled gently at her before shifting her eyes back up and sighing. "I suppose you're right. There's more now than there ever was, it feels like." Sheva liked it - not for the new slaves of course, but just the press of others. She enjoyed being in the community, and couldn't imagine life as a Loner. If she was ever removed from the herd, her life would be all but over in her mind. Her eyes met Magdalene's slate grey, and listened to the question posed of her, ears flicking back against her poll as if she didn't wish to hear them. War didn't interest her, and she couldn't imagine the hardened Bachelors not destroying the pampered herd to the North, even if the alternative horrified her. "I imagine it'll be a slaughter." She replied, with an incredible calmness, as if she had said 'I imagine it'll rain', before her voice took on a more serious bent. "I'll be protected. I am at least valued somewhat now, that most are dead and gone from our day. But what about you? Where are you going, when there is nothing but war and charred forest left for us?"
"Undoubtedly it will." Magdalene agreed, a detached coldness to her tone. She knew both herds well enough to hedge her bets on a bloodbath. She'd lived among the Bachelors, had watched colts die with blood crusted on their faces. Those that survived the cut were shaped into formidable warriors, trained to be selective with their empathy, to revel in the privilege of pillaging. Magdalene hated them all, each and every one, but she wasn't so petty that she couldn't admire their strength and comradely. They were brothers-in-arms, barbarians with loyalty, and that made them all the more dangerous. They would fight for one another as surely as they would fight for their own glory or enjoyment, whichever they preferred. The pampered horses of Olde did not stand a chance. Not even their mages would not be able to stand against the onslaught of the Bachelor's standing army.
Gray eyes shifted to Keziah. The thought of violence had Magdalene's fur standing on end, her hooves itching to get moving. Sheva's assurance served as a momentary distraction from the agitation. "Good." The messenger replied, bobbing her head. Her tone did not match the sentiment of her words, however. She felt that Sheva would be guarded like a possession, and that was cold reassurance at best. Possessions could be discarded, left behind when a fire roared close or relinquished when a thief demanded ransom. Possessions could be replaced. If push came to shove, Magdalene suspected the broods would be abandoned to their own devices, and there were few among them that could truly defend. Sheva was quick as a whip, but she wasn't a fighter. And Lilith... Magdalene was willing to be she'd never bitten anyone in her life. Not without consent, anyway.
But Sheva was talking again, and for a second time Magdalene was snapped out of her internal fussing. "We meant to go South. Even if there is truly no meadow left, there are Perditims to bargain with. With luck, their youngsters have had all spring and summer to grow out of their bloodlust, not that we'll be approaching any of the little bastards." It was a shaky plan at best, but with the possibility of the war moving north over the mountains and spilling across Olde, the southern island was the only place guaranteed to be clear of fighting. As far as she was aware, anyway. Ba'Yagu had assembled the Loners some time ago, promising them sanctuary, but Magdalene had never trusted in the witch. Everything about her left the mare uneasy. She had not heeded the call, and she was beginning to regret it. If the witch had truly known of a better place...
Magdalene shook her head, anxiety spiking. She needed to get the hell out of the open. "When this is over," She said, voice turning gruff but not lacking for an old affection, "I expect to see you again. I absolutely forbid you to get into trouble."
Even without Cain's gift, a sudden icy wave from Magdalene's disposition hit Sheva in the face like a sharp kick, and the mare's eyes widened for a second before squinting suspiciously. What could the other mare be thinking about with such contempt dripping from her words, what images were passing behind those dark eyes? It was impossible to say, and always was. Sheva looked away, and followed Magdalene's gaze to her daughter. A chill went down her spine. Her older sons could at least defend themselves, and some of them had grown into vicious fighters, Ze'ev and Isaac especially. Isaac would be brutal. Abel might try to charm them...her sweet Ephraim, what would he do? He couldn't be asked to fight...no. She felt tears spring unwilling to her eyes, though she shook them away easily. She would push these thoughts as far away as possible, for as long as possible. If necessary, she would die for any of them, even those that hated her now.
Sheva's crimson eyes glanced up in alarm at the mention of those horrid screaming moose, and her face easily gave away the misgivings she had for this idea. That was rather daring, especially for her normally very reserved friend, though the Southern Isle was the only one that WAS truly safe...at least from equine kind. "I sure hope you know what you're doin' down there then...dealin' with moose." She drew her lips together in a thin line, the 'mother face' surely, and eyeballed Magdalene with severe mama concern. But the moment was gone as soon as it came, for Magdalene started to draw herself away, fear overtaking her. Sheva laughed a little bit, trying not to betray her unwillingness to let Magdalene slip away after all these years. "It's funny, hearin' that from you. I'm always the one sayin' it." She said gently, before stepping forward and laying her large neck over Magdalene's, tucking her chin in and gently pinching the smaller mare's neck in the semblance of a hug. "I expect you to swing back by again. In fact, I'll be waitin' on it." Sheva smiled, a sad smile which crinkled her eyes again. "Now you get going, neither of us need the trouble now."
She turned away quickly, not wanting to draw the goodbye out and never let Magdalene go - turn a Golden Mare and just capture her, if only to keep her safe. No, the thought sickened her. Even if she had such power, she couldn't use it to such ends. Though perhaps safer, and under Sheva's watchful eye, Magdalene would wither in her return, just as Sheva would if she were ever cast out. Thus, the mare returned to her herd, slipping in easily with the chaos that surrounded them, and hoped Mags and her child would be far away when the herds clashed and the sun rose high over the bloody Summer Fields.
Magdalene opened her mouth, lips shaped to remind Sheva that she'd been the real instigator of all their childhood shenanigans and thank you very much...
But then Sheva was embracing her, and the quip died in her throat. Her ill-used sentimentally was dusted off in that moment, spit-shined until it gleamed like gold. Carefully, like didn't quite know what to do with physical contact anymore (and frankly she didn't), Magdalene pressed her cheek to the mare's sturdy throat. Sheva's scent in her nose brought back memories, swimming just behind her eyes. Good memories, of adventures and mishaps, but bad ones too. She recalled the day she'd stumbled up to her, only a thumb of child, the gash on her face still angry red. Sheva had snubbed her, and for a long time Magdalene had been sore, regarding the little lady with resentment. She'd hoped a day would come when Sheva sought her company, perhaps needed her. The appaloosa had fantasized with childish spite how good it would feel to return her cold shoulder.
And years later, the opportunity arose. Sheva had limped into the midst of the herd bruised and bloodied. Not one brood had lifted a hoof. Sarai had not even lifted her head. Magdalene could not understand it, but she could not judge them, either. She, too, had turned away, and in doing so cemented her first regret.
You're about to do it again. Said a little voice, stirring beneath her breast. She needs you, and you're going to run away.
She had a daughter to protect. For years, she had sacrificed everything to keep her safe. She'd forgone meals, had lost sleep, had buried her empathy so deeply that she was sure she'd snuffed it out. She'd been sure, so damn sure, that she could not protect Keziah without throwing the rest of the world to the wolves.
But what if she had been wrong?
"Sheva-" She began, but the mare was already moving away. Magdalene did not dare raise her voice to call after her, nor did she give chase. She was not even sure what she had meant to say. "Come on, then, little wing." The mare murmured to Keziah, and together the pair turned to go on their own way. South, towards the charred forests, where danger lurked but at least not in the form of a fellow horse.
Magdalene did not know then that she would never reach the landbridge. She did not anticipate that the little voice would grow stronger, would convince her to hide her daughter away deep within the wood and return the fringes, to keep an eye on her childhood friend. In that moment, she only knew that her heart was bleeding, a little piece torn away and carried across the Summer Fields.
It hadn't been safe to skirt them. Of the Bachelors she'd been able to see, there had been at least eight. There was no telling how many more had lurked in the wood, so Magdalene had turned and swatted Judith's side with her multi-toned tail, communicating without words that the filly needed to tread lightly, silently. Together they had backtracked, through the trees and brush, moving as quietly as whispers. Every hair on Magdalene's body had felt like it was standing straight, bristled like a prickly porcupine in threat response. She had not been so close to Bachelor stallions in years, and the close call had left her unnerved and increasingly paranoid as day gave in to warm night.
They hit the the Summer Fields a few hours after darkfall. Magdalene signaled for Judith to tuck herself into the treeline's thick shrubbery, and then stepped out into the open meadow, head tucked low and every muscle tense. She remembered these fields, remembered the fireflies that flickered like earthly stars in the summer heat, and the nocturnal creatures that scuttled away from her footsteps.The green, lush grass made her mouth water. Perhaps if it was safe, they would pause here to eat, fill their bellies a bit before they continued on. They had to be clear of the Summer Fields before dawn; at this time of year there were simply too many mares in the meadows, and Magdalene had known more than one slave who would betray a stranger's presence to earn favor.
Magdalene's heart leapt into her throat as she caught the sound of hoofbeats. Her head whipped in the direction of the noise as her ears pinned tight to her skull, senses growing acute on a surge of panic. Was it a scout, making sure the broods were all in their proper place? If it was just the one stallion, she might be able to fight her way out of the encounter. He likely wouldn't expect her particular brand of violent resistance, and surprise was always a good upperhand. If she could just get him down and out for a few precious minutes-
Wait.
She recognized that spotted coat.
The herd was abuzz with the upcoming war - the stallions were at their finest, sparring with one another on a regular basis, earning new scars to scare those that would come and seek to destroy them. Even the weakest of the herd looked somehow battle-worthy as they dripped with fresh blood, tufts of mane missing from the crests of their necks. That was the way of the Bachelor herd, and that was how she had been raised. For 38 years she had seen all the scarred faces come and go, and she realized now that soon she might not see some of them ever again. Surely they would be replaced with a wash of new scarred faces, as it always went. She had created her fair share, the herd was littered with her sons now. And only her sons. With hardened eyes, she glanced at the few that she could see now, their spotted pelts as familiar as her own, every one in their place. She scarcely knew some of them, but she loved them all. Even those that had forgotten her, so swept away in their own lives, their futures as part of the herd. Futures that -mattered-.
That was the price she paid for the life she got to keep, and each year one was taken from her, by the stallions or by Death himself, whenever it was convenient to Him. Sheva would never know whether it was worth it or not, for the answer always changed. She tried not to think about it, and in doing so, made her escape. Like her adoptive 'babies', the mare had a fondness for leaving, however she would always return. There was no purpose for her outside of this herd, there was no one to love or appreciate her. If she did anything right, it was teaching the young mares how to cope. It made her feel...wanted. Yet, she still needed to leave on occasion, and escape the press of the herd. It was especially necessary now that the war was coming, as tensions were high and morale was low. Cain was doing his best to keep everyone on task, but even his most loyal of followers needed a vent for their frustrations. It was more than she could bear.
This was her respite before the war, her final visit to the Outside, for who knew what would come once Olde was marching on them from the North. A sigh escaped her lips as she focused her eyes in the darkness and pressed forward. Yet another familiar, spotted form crept before her vision. However something twinged in her mind, for it was not a son. But a friend. A friend she had lost a while ago to the birth of a filly. It cannot be... Sheva thought, though she inched a bit closer, her eyes squinting in the dark, the fireflies flitting about only making her focus more difficult. "...Magdalene?" she spoke, her voice hushed and urgent, her scarlet eyes suddenly shifting for fear of a follower. She could deal with the stallions herself, but if this WAS her old...friend would be a strong turn of phrase...Sheva worried what would happen then.
Magdalene did not immediantly reply. Her notched ears were perked forward, straining to listen over the hum of crickets and her own shuddering breath, searching the darkness behind the familiar mare for an unwelcomed third or, unicorns forbid it, fourth. When no lurker made themselves apparent, she relaxed-- and then an entirely new grip of emotion pushed her right back to the edge.
"Sheva."
She looked at the mare. Really looked at her. It was difficult to paint a picture by the light of the moon and the unreliable flicker of fireflies, but she could make out the old scars. Though she'd tried to forget, she remembered the day Sheva had acquired them. She'd been a pathetic thing, limping into the meadow with her face torn and her sides heaving, blood running down her legs and chest like glittering veins of ore. The broods had turned away. She had turned away, too, heeding the advice of the mare watching her that evening. It's none of our business, she'd said. The memory still made Magdalene flinch; she wished she had not turned away. They had not been friends, not then, but it had been cruel betrayal in hindsight, bitter tasting on the tongue.
"... Told you a long time ago," She said at length, "to call me Mags."
Her gray eyes shifted away, to anywhere else. She couldn't look at Sheva. That first betrayal had not been the last, perhaps it had not even been the worst. She had left, stealing away with her newborn before they'd ever had a chance to bid one another goodbye. For thirteen years, Magdalene had resigned herself to the idea that she'd never see her friend again.
"I." She began, and stopped. "How have you been?" She grimaced. The question was positively ludicrous in light of the situation, and she knew it. Her awkwardness was atrocious at the best of times and only amplified by her fraying nerves. She'd begun to shake, muscles quivering under her sparsely spotted coat despite the warm night that was sticky with humidity. Get a grip, she thought desperately.
The silence was overpowering, a void calling her to speak more, pulling words from her though she did not will it so. Thankfully, though, it ended before she could speak again, and in the most positive way possible. A rush of calm fell over her, for this was no threat. She could not imagine the mare before her having such a change of heart, or if she did, to be so cruel and daring as to alert Sheva's rulebreaking to anyone of consequence. The Knabstrupper mare inched closer, curiosity on her face as she tried to sense what was going on in the other spotted mare's mind, however she would never fathom it. A chuckle sprang from her lips at Mags' awkward statement, it seemed utterly out of place after not seeing one another for so long, and after such a pregnant pause.
Magdalene's averted eyes gave Sheva some pause as her neediness kicked in. What did I do now? She found herself questioning, wishing that this could be easier, not complicated by years of separation and strife, a complete vanishing. At least Sheva knew the mare hadn't been killed when she and the filly made their escape. None of the stallions had come back /that/ happy. And the lady brood couldn't blame her friend for not returning for all those years, for if she were to be captured again, it spelled only misery. However this aversion was inexplicable to Sheva, and the mare felt an overwhelming crash of uncertainty, though she stuffed it down as she always did. Mamas never showed that they were scared.
The question made her laugh again, perhaps more a pathway for her nerves to find release than a true laugh, and she took it upon herself to get much closer. Silence was better in these situations, and proximity was better for whispers. "Oh, it's all peachy in the herd, Mags. She drawled for emphasis, giving the other mare a knowing look. "Though I have to say, this is the best time to be a Bachelor mare. The new leader is soft on us." She chuckled again, thinking about Cain and his subtle decrees that were starting to tear the herd down. "He's Keturah's son." The Lady then added with a conspiratorial grin, knowing what impact that would have on her old comrade of sorts.
"But what are you doing here?" She asked, her tone going more serious as her scarlet eyes passed over the quivering form of Magdalene. "You know you're too close." A statement, not a question.
Magdalene's ears twitched when she caught the vivacious mare's laugh. The sound was calming. It was familiar, even though she hadn't felt her friend's laugh flutter around in her chest for over a decade. She suddenly felt like a young girl again, listening to Sheva's latest tidbit of gossip or feeling the burn in her stocky legs as she tried to keep up with her cohort. The good memories flooded into her and through her, chasing away the darker recollections like a shaft of light piercing an overcast sky.
Sheva was not cross with her. She did not feel betrayed, though she had every right in the world to do so. Mags considered it more forgiveness thaN she deserved, and yet she was still grateful for it, desperately happy in a way she didn't often experience. The former brood relaxed, weight falling on her front hooves as her neck released its tension. Finally, she raised stone-colored eyes to look at the friend she had not expected to ever see again, and for the first time, she allowed herself to feel the pain that had caused. Feel it, and let it go.
Perhaps she even smirked a little. Wouldn't that be a first.
Her ears perked as the Kabstrupper spoke. There was a new-to-Sheva notch in the left one, a by-product of an encounter with grass beasts. Old and well healed, if looks were anything to go by. "Right, of course." She replied in a whisper, voice with the barest sliver of mirth. It was a significant display of emotion for the appaloosa, all things considered. "I almost miss the lecherous stares sometimes. Really brings a tear to my- what?" The mare's head cocked, brows knitting as her eyes turned to slivers of gray. A new leader, one who was 'soft' with the broods?
Magdalene quite nearly accused her friend of yanking her chain, but the Lady's next words saw her freeze, mismatched nostrils flaring with shock and a stab of emotional pain that felt like a lung shot. Beautiful, frail Keturah had been a mother to the messenger, perhaps not in name but absolutely in spirit. She had loved the mare as she'd loved no one else until the day of Lilith's birth. Recalling those final days was painful twenty years later. Sometimes, she fancied the smell of sickness was still in her nose, as burned into memory as the sight of her maternal figure's final breath.
The appaloosa gave herself a sharp shake that scattered fireflies. "Her son..." She repeated the words as though she couldn't quite believe it, and then her brow furrowed further yet. "But she never told me- he is your leader?" Magdalene paused, searching Sheva's face for any sign of playful deceit, though she knew in her heart she wouldn't find it. Her friend would not make jest of such a thing. Not to her. "So a child of Keturah's now leads the same stallions that kept her captive. Does he not know?" She stamped a hoof, momentarily indignant and...
And then it dawned on her. Her expression went blank with shock. Of course he knows.
Sheva's next words drew her out of her statuesque stance, eyes refocusing on the Lady's face. "I do." She admitted, and her ears pinned, tongue darting out to wet her lips. "We didn't have a choice. There were Scouts the usual route, too many to chance strafing."
Sheva had the lack of grace to look proud of herself, happy that she could deliver such astonishing information. If she had known of her old friend's job description, surely a harping would need to be done about the mare's distinct lack of juicy herd gossip. The stocky Knabstrupper puffed up a little bit, her chest out and a smile sliding easily onto her features, lips curling just enough to reveal the gap in her front teeth. However when her scarlet eyes opened again, she realized the pain that Mags suffered at the loss of the white Marwari mare, and deflated slightly, brows knitting. Sheva had known Keturah as well, just as long as Mags did, however with her own dynamics in play, she hadn't quite sought out a motherly figure as much as her companion had.
Sheva nodded slightly at Magdalene's question, however she didn't know how much detail the stallion had. He was rather close-lipped about himself and his past, and all questions about his mother were very pointed. Cain did not mince words, nor did he let anyone in. It was a peculiar trait, but she had faith in him. There was something heroic about him, deep, deep, deep down inside of that frail frame of his.
"You must be feelin' lucky to be travelling South right now. If I were a Loner, I'd be staying put - outta sight." Sheva murmured, her ears flicking back in a moment of nervousness as she cast a glance over her shoulder again - back to the herd, back to the war. "They're all coming for us. The Exiles, Olde." The Lady released a bark of a laugh as she scratched the top of her head with her knee awkwardly. "This isn't a safe place, now more than ever. The Bachelors will seem kind in comparison to what Olde will do to us." A shiver ran down her spotted spine as she willed the images away, the only images that she could picture to go with what was bound to happen. Running seemed good, hiding even better. But they would catch her, as they always did. No one ever really escaped.
In an effort to try to clear her head, Sheva's scarlet eyes cast around for any other topic, before finding another little soul, the 'we'. "She's still alive..." Sheva said with tender voice, her head cocking slightly, before she realized what an awkward statement that was and looked back to Magdalene. "I wasn't sure she'd make that swim when you escaped, but I hoped...when no bodies washed up."
"Mm." Magdalene eloquently grunted. She knew of the coming war, had heard dark whisperings among the herds. It hadn't surprised her; ancient tension would always come to a head, boiling over into violence sooner or later. She'd felt a sardonic pity for Olde. The Bachelors were going to destroy them, and there wasn't an Exile in the world that could turn the odds in their favor. Their people were wet behind the ears and laughably fragile, their king too soft. He did not expect the same excellence- the same sacrifice- as the Bachelor's Elites. The stallions of the East Island had legendary strength, as irritating as it was to admit. "There's little chance of victory for Olde. Barring that the Great Conversationalist or whatever the hell he is doesn't come rising from the sea, the Elites will grind their knights to dust."
Even if by some unlikely chance that Olde succeeded, Magdalene had assumed that the broodmares would be safe. She didn't care a whit what happened to the stallions, but surely Vasska would look upon the slaves as pitiable victims to be coddled and turned free. As Magdalene watched fret cross her friend's expression, however, the worry turned contagious.
"We were both half-dead by the time we reached the South." She admitted as Sheva's words turned to Keziah, and her own face softened as she flicked her gaze to the treeline. She pursed her lips and called to her daughter with a birdsong, and Keziah dutifully came, a tiny shadow moving through the grass. The filly parked herself between Magdalene's front legs. She was too tall for the position by an inch, gangly knees bent to compensate. She peered up at Bat-Sheva with curiosity and no small amount of confusion, for her mother had never willingly drawn her into the presence of another horse.
Magdalene nipped one of her ears. "Say hello before Bat-Sheva thinks I didn't raise you to have manners."
"Hello." The filly acquiesced, and then darted backwards, finding a new and thoroughly ineffective hiding spot in Magdalene's tail.
The appaloosa snorted, fell quiet, and then took a step closer to the Lady Brood. "You could come with us. You should." She offered, the invitation surprising even herself. She had never agreed to company before, seeing it as only a hindrance, an inconvenience that could compromise Keziah's safety. But she had abandoned Sheva once already, and she would not do it second time. "She taught me the old paths. I know how to keep us of their reach, how to survive without a herd. You would be safe. With the stallions rallying for war, they won't notice for several hours." Her nostrils flared, bloody pumped with the same anxiety she'd felt on the night she'd fled with her daughter.
If only the Bachelors had the luxury of gods and unicorns - it was almost laughable, even to Sheva, to think of such a thing. Olde lived in the lap of luxury, but to her, it sounded boring and strict. With Delilah coming in willingly with tales of the North, Sheva knew she would prefer death to life on the Isle of Olde, and the thought made her give a little shiver of apprehension. "Cain is determined to win this thing, even if it ain't his war. The Elites are the same, for all the reasons you can imagine." She murmured in a strange sort of assent to Magdalene's assessment, trying to envision it. She had no ill will toward the misguided, brainwashed herd that marched on them. They were mothers and children too. Surely some of them even had hearts under that cloak of piety and rigid structure.
The train of thought was derailed by the whistle that Mags made, and a deepening of the shadows beyond. Sheva's muscles thought to tense for a moment, but they relaxed, knowing the company she kept. Magdalene would never be so careless as to put herself in danger - it seemed that trait was even more apparent now, if possible. Self-preservation was one of the harder things to let go of. Bat-Sheva's brilliant red eyes fell upon the filly that stood awkwardly in front of her mother, a little too large to be a baby, but a little too gangly to be an adult. A smile crept across the older mare's face, allowing a peek of the gap between her teeth. "Don't you worry about that, darlin'. It's hard to find one of my boys that has a touch of 'em at all." Sheva said dismissively, crooking a leg for emphasis. "I do have one about her age though. If you ever wanna be thinkin' about a match. He's even growin' up sweet." Her youngest boy, having just turned 13, had miraculously stayed as loving as when he was born. Sheva wondered if she was setting him up for a hard life, but there was something in her that couldn't let him go.
You should come with us... swam through her brain for a second, but her body was already responding with a vehement shake of the head. "You don't know the herd anymore Mags. You wouldn't believe it if I told you." She said with a chuckle, and a sad smile. "But I can't leave it. I can't leave my babies, my sons...my sister. It's my whole world." She said with a strange softness in her voice, and a crinkle to the sides of her eyes. "There are too many I'd want to take with me - many more that need the out more than I." Cain was trying to both keep the peace and turn the Bachelor herd on its head, and thus progression was slow, too slow for some. The recent captures were just so fragile..."With the stallions rallying for war, they wouldn't notice an intruder either. Anyone who isn't one of us is assumed an Exile, you could walk right into the herd with not a word." Sheva countered, her eyes brightening a bit. "There's so much you've missed!"
Magdalene found herself falling into some strange middle ground between relaxed and alert. Sheva's easy smile and gentle drawl had always had a way of putting others at ease. The younger appaloosa suspected Empathy was afoot, but dismissed the thought almost as soon as it popped into her head. Sheva wouldn't entice her to let down her guard in a situation like this. Moreover, she remembered her youth being plagued with fluttering eyelashes and a wry grin crooning please, and all the unfortunate situations they'd gotten her into. Sheva had called them adventures; Magdalene had insisted she was missing a prefix for the word. Time had only made their misadventures more horrifying as Magdalene realized how close they'd come to being eaten. Twice.
She couldn't honestly say she regretted a single one of them.
Sheva's refusal to be uprooted brought her violently back to the present. A stitch formed in her chest at the reasoning, because of course. Her friend would never abandon her family, and unicorns only knew how many sons and daughters she had by now. Magdalene felt wretched for even proposing it, for she herself would have certainly taken offense were the roles reversed. "Wasn't thinking." She grunted. Now would be the time to lose her head, she supposed. "Of course you'd want to stay with your babies." Her pink nose scrunched in feigned distaste. "And Lilith. She must be less obnoxious these days."
Oh, yes, she remembered Sheva's younger sister. That one had been their little shadow, interjecting herself into any wiggle room she could find. Magdalene still couldn't say she'd ever seen a better impression of a lost grassbeast pup.
Magdalene shifted her weight as Sheva countered with a suggestion of her own, and the thought of marching into the thick of the Bachelors had the messenger feeling wry enough to smirk. "I don't suspect I'll miss what I've missed." She admitted, cocking her head in a way that was almost playful. She hadn't traded quips in a long time, but she trusted Sheva would forgive the rust on her wit. "Eh, too many bodies in one place. Gives me the jitters... always did. More so now, I imagine. Besides, Ghost'll know me. I'll assume that letting me by without incident was a one time charity on his part.
"But Sheva," She continued, settling a slate gray stare of brilliant red as the topic returned to something far more somber, "when these stallions are killing each other, where are you going to be?" Her brow knit. "Tell me you're going to be safe."
Sheva was too busy off in her own head, probably reminiscing more fondly about the same past events that Magdalene was thinking tentatively on. While their safety wasn't always guaranteed, they always came out relatively unscathed. Relatively being the optimal word. Sheva had become a good deal more responsible as her age advanced, at least when she was dragging others along. Getting Elowen nearly swallowed up and killed in the marshes had really driven home that idea, as she regretted it on a daily basis. So many others were so fragile, but Mags had always been her match, even if it was reluctantly. Even when they were up to their eyeballs in trouble, one of them would always come out the stronger to save the other pain or shame. A little smile curled her lips, though it faded as Magdalene grunted out her response, shame coloring her speech.
Sheva, having developed a rather blase outlook, taking little to heart, didn't realize the source of the shame for a moment until Mags mentioned her babies. She wondered how much she'd really be needed. Surely the young ones would suffer the most, though her older sons never failed to protect the younger it would seem. Was her presence so necessary? Yes. Or so she wanted to believe. Her mind wasn't given the time to sink into that black hole of sadness before she nearly choked on her own tongue at Mags' mention of Lilith. Bat-Sheva shoved down a laugh into her continued choking, and bobbled her head this way and that. "She's followin' her own path now, so I guess by default that makes her less obnoxious, right?" She responded, not really knowing what to say. Lilith had certainly come into her own, and the times that she was a thorn in hers' and Mags' sides seemed a distant memory that was hard to recall. They were friends, and quite close emotionally, though their social spheres had very little overlap. Sheva's mind had taken on a political bent, if only for self-preservation and secondly for the preservation of others, while Lilith lived in the moment and took care of her own.
Ghost. She had forgot about their involvement, but how could she have? The evidence of which was standing before her now, spotty and...drafty. Sheva smiled gently at her before shifting her eyes back up and sighing. "I suppose you're right. There's more now than there ever was, it feels like." Sheva liked it - not for the new slaves of course, but just the press of others. She enjoyed being in the community, and couldn't imagine life as a Loner. If she was ever removed from the herd, her life would be all but over in her mind. Her eyes met Magdalene's slate grey, and listened to the question posed of her, ears flicking back against her poll as if she didn't wish to hear them. War didn't interest her, and she couldn't imagine the hardened Bachelors not destroying the pampered herd to the North, even if the alternative horrified her. "I imagine it'll be a slaughter." She replied, with an incredible calmness, as if she had said 'I imagine it'll rain', before her voice took on a more serious bent. "I'll be protected. I am at least valued somewhat now, that most are dead and gone from our day. But what about you? Where are you going, when there is nothing but war and charred forest left for us?"
"Undoubtedly it will." Magdalene agreed, a detached coldness to her tone. She knew both herds well enough to hedge her bets on a bloodbath. She'd lived among the Bachelors, had watched colts die with blood crusted on their faces. Those that survived the cut were shaped into formidable warriors, trained to be selective with their empathy, to revel in the privilege of pillaging. Magdalene hated them all, each and every one, but she wasn't so petty that she couldn't admire their strength and comradely. They were brothers-in-arms, barbarians with loyalty, and that made them all the more dangerous. They would fight for one another as surely as they would fight for their own glory or enjoyment, whichever they preferred. The pampered horses of Olde did not stand a chance. Not even their mages would not be able to stand against the onslaught of the Bachelor's standing army.
Gray eyes shifted to Keziah. The thought of violence had Magdalene's fur standing on end, her hooves itching to get moving. Sheva's assurance served as a momentary distraction from the agitation. "Good." The messenger replied, bobbing her head. Her tone did not match the sentiment of her words, however. She felt that Sheva would be guarded like a possession, and that was cold reassurance at best. Possessions could be discarded, left behind when a fire roared close or relinquished when a thief demanded ransom. Possessions could be replaced. If push came to shove, Magdalene suspected the broods would be abandoned to their own devices, and there were few among them that could truly defend. Sheva was quick as a whip, but she wasn't a fighter. And Lilith... Magdalene was willing to be she'd never bitten anyone in her life. Not without consent, anyway.
But Sheva was talking again, and for a second time Magdalene was snapped out of her internal fussing. "We meant to go South. Even if there is truly no meadow left, there are Perditims to bargain with. With luck, their youngsters have had all spring and summer to grow out of their bloodlust, not that we'll be approaching any of the little bastards." It was a shaky plan at best, but with the possibility of the war moving north over the mountains and spilling across Olde, the southern island was the only place guaranteed to be clear of fighting. As far as she was aware, anyway. Ba'Yagu had assembled the Loners some time ago, promising them sanctuary, but Magdalene had never trusted in the witch. Everything about her left the mare uneasy. She had not heeded the call, and she was beginning to regret it. If the witch had truly known of a better place...
Magdalene shook her head, anxiety spiking. She needed to get the hell out of the open. "When this is over," She said, voice turning gruff but not lacking for an old affection, "I expect to see you again. I absolutely forbid you to get into trouble."
Even without Cain's gift, a sudden icy wave from Magdalene's disposition hit Sheva in the face like a sharp kick, and the mare's eyes widened for a second before squinting suspiciously. What could the other mare be thinking about with such contempt dripping from her words, what images were passing behind those dark eyes? It was impossible to say, and always was. Sheva looked away, and followed Magdalene's gaze to her daughter. A chill went down her spine. Her older sons could at least defend themselves, and some of them had grown into vicious fighters, Ze'ev and Isaac especially. Isaac would be brutal. Abel might try to charm them...her sweet Ephraim, what would he do? He couldn't be asked to fight...no. She felt tears spring unwilling to her eyes, though she shook them away easily. She would push these thoughts as far away as possible, for as long as possible. If necessary, she would die for any of them, even those that hated her now.
Sheva's crimson eyes glanced up in alarm at the mention of those horrid screaming moose, and her face easily gave away the misgivings she had for this idea. That was rather daring, especially for her normally very reserved friend, though the Southern Isle was the only one that WAS truly safe...at least from equine kind. "I sure hope you know what you're doin' down there then...dealin' with moose." She drew her lips together in a thin line, the 'mother face' surely, and eyeballed Magdalene with severe mama concern. But the moment was gone as soon as it came, for Magdalene started to draw herself away, fear overtaking her. Sheva laughed a little bit, trying not to betray her unwillingness to let Magdalene slip away after all these years. "It's funny, hearin' that from you. I'm always the one sayin' it." She said gently, before stepping forward and laying her large neck over Magdalene's, tucking her chin in and gently pinching the smaller mare's neck in the semblance of a hug. "I expect you to swing back by again. In fact, I'll be waitin' on it." Sheva smiled, a sad smile which crinkled her eyes again. "Now you get going, neither of us need the trouble now."
She turned away quickly, not wanting to draw the goodbye out and never let Magdalene go - turn a Golden Mare and just capture her, if only to keep her safe. No, the thought sickened her. Even if she had such power, she couldn't use it to such ends. Though perhaps safer, and under Sheva's watchful eye, Magdalene would wither in her return, just as Sheva would if she were ever cast out. Thus, the mare returned to her herd, slipping in easily with the chaos that surrounded them, and hoped Mags and her child would be far away when the herds clashed and the sun rose high over the bloody Summer Fields.
Magdalene opened her mouth, lips shaped to remind Sheva that she'd been the real instigator of all their childhood shenanigans and thank you very much...
But then Sheva was embracing her, and the quip died in her throat. Her ill-used sentimentally was dusted off in that moment, spit-shined until it gleamed like gold. Carefully, like didn't quite know what to do with physical contact anymore (and frankly she didn't), Magdalene pressed her cheek to the mare's sturdy throat. Sheva's scent in her nose brought back memories, swimming just behind her eyes. Good memories, of adventures and mishaps, but bad ones too. She recalled the day she'd stumbled up to her, only a thumb of child, the gash on her face still angry red. Sheva had snubbed her, and for a long time Magdalene had been sore, regarding the little lady with resentment. She'd hoped a day would come when Sheva sought her company, perhaps needed her. The appaloosa had fantasized with childish spite how good it would feel to return her cold shoulder.
And years later, the opportunity arose. Sheva had limped into the midst of the herd bruised and bloodied. Not one brood had lifted a hoof. Sarai had not even lifted her head. Magdalene could not understand it, but she could not judge them, either. She, too, had turned away, and in doing so cemented her first regret.
You're about to do it again. Said a little voice, stirring beneath her breast. She needs you, and you're going to run away.
She had a daughter to protect. For years, she had sacrificed everything to keep her safe. She'd forgone meals, had lost sleep, had buried her empathy so deeply that she was sure she'd snuffed it out. She'd been sure, so damn sure, that she could not protect Keziah without throwing the rest of the world to the wolves.
But what if she had been wrong?
"Sheva-" She began, but the mare was already moving away. Magdalene did not dare raise her voice to call after her, nor did she give chase. She was not even sure what she had meant to say. "Come on, then, little wing." The mare murmured to Keziah, and together the pair turned to go on their own way. South, towards the charred forests, where danger lurked but at least not in the form of a fellow horse.
Magdalene did not know then that she would never reach the landbridge. She did not anticipate that the little voice would grow stronger, would convince her to hide her daughter away deep within the wood and return the fringes, to keep an eye on her childhood friend. In that moment, she only knew that her heart was bleeding, a little piece torn away and carried across the Summer Fields.
Now I Can't Look You In The Eye
Summer 401 - Just prior to Objective 4
Word Count - 6179 // +3 TP for Sheva and +3 TP for Magdalene
A meeting of old friends...
• Magdalene © Queerly
• Sheva © pony-bones
• Please do not copy, heavily reference, trace, claim as your own, reuse this image on another site, reproduce in any way, shape or form, without explicit written permission/consent
© 2015 - 2024 pony-bones
Comments2
Join the community to add your comment. Already a deviant? Log In
That's okay
I didn't need my heart
I didn't need my heart