i will breathe the air (mast only)

[Camelia]

I will run the streets and hostile lands, I will touch the rain with all I have
I will breathe the air, to scream it loud. My feet will never touch the ground.

During those lonely days, Camelia spent much of her time thinking of the past. It was easy to do, especially when everything reminded her of her family. A bird’s song in a nearby tree would spur the memory of her mother sweetly whispering the songs of faeries and magic. Walking under the weepy branches of a willow tree might encourage a game of tag with the ghostly image of Mast as a child. Glancing up at night to see a shooting star might bring forth the distinct memory of standing atop a tall hill with her father, nuzzled against his warm side, watching the stars chase each other.

She spent her nights dreaming about dancing between flowers and kissing his neck.

She spent her days watching clouds form into his handsome face and hearing her mother’s voice.

Camelia could have kept herself updated on the whereabouts of her family, but she found herself unwilling to venture past the boundaries of her miniature home. At least, up until the point of her revelation. And now she is sitting in the Meadow, perched like a dove waiting for her partner.

And then she sees him.

Her Mast. Her childhood friend. Her best friend. Her partner in crime. Her king. Her beloved. Her darling. Her Mast. He is racing, inky mane pulled against the tendrils of the wind he stirs up, sweat dripping against his chest. Her heart flutters and her mouth opens. His name rips from her throat like a crack of thunder, a word she has only said in her dreams. “Mast.” He cannot hear her over the pounding of his hooves, she knows – besides, her voice is a throaty sound, aching with the loss of speaking over the years.

But he must have noticed her. He must have felt the thread tying their hearts together tugging closer, pulling and ripping and jerking to move beside her. And he turns. He looks. He runs again, this time toward her, and her heart – oh God, her poor heart – shakes and jumps and skips a beat and drops and flies and flutters and melts all at once. Camelia whispers his name, savoring the way it tastes on her lips after so long. “Mast.” He kisses her all over and she shudders at his touch. It revives her, rejuvenating the determination that brought her here.

His voice reaches her ears and she moves, pressing her body into him. She can’t get enough. Camelia’s eyes flood with tears, unbidden and unashamed. She presses a kiss against his sweaty neck, then closer to his ear, then along his cheek. Her name on his tongue is felt deep in her aching, full, loving chest. She feels what he doesn’t say, and what he does. Camelia’s lips find his ear and she whispers the three words she’s been aching to say all these years. “I love you.”

Camelia