SIRIN
The girl is like a buoy bobbing in the merciless, churning water. But instead of navigating the way to safety, she’s on a collision course with death. Sirin sees that acting as a dam will offer her only chance of deviating from her fatal path. It’s not a solid plan but it’s all she has. The look in the filly’s eyes is enough to say it is worth trying, anyway. And even if the late autumn air chills the water to impossible temperatures that make her numb, she is lit with inner resolve that feels like fire. Too stubborn to let the girl float away. Too pissed to let herself succumb to a watery grave either. She braces for impact as the tiny body rushes her way.
Thud.
Nyxa hits her legs, her side, but the feeling is distant and muted by the cold. The girl struggles onto the bank without grace, and Sirin is close on her heels (though her own stick in the squelching mud). She watches as emotion overtakes the would-be victim and looks away in a hurry. The tears of little girls are harder to deal with than deciding to save their lives at a moment’s notice. She’s no mother, no imparter of wisdom or clichés, so she lets her have her recovery time. Mostly, she herself needs to recover her breath and her warmth. Her stint as selfless hero is short lived, and good riddance, she muses.
The river runs ragged and wild behind them, eager to devour more and more on its journey through the land. At least it won’t feast on young fillies today. The violet mare looks disgustedly at her muddied feet before finally fixing her eyes on her temporary charge. She’s thanking her and carrying on about her angry mother and it all makes Sirin’s gut tight with annoyance. She cuts in before the girl can say anymore. “Yeah, yeah. I want to kill you myself for turning my blood into ice and making me look a mess, but then what was the point of this whole exercise?” She shivers and pulls her bedraggled wings in close to show her suffering. “Listen, I’ll make you a deal. I won’t tell Mommy if you take me home with you.”
Her mind turns like wheels even as she says it. Perhaps the girl is of some importance somewhere, and maybe she won’t keep her mouth shut about how she saved her, despite her little promise. The splashed woman eyes her carefully, her gaze holding all the sincerity she’s absolutely lacking in reality. She realizes that she’ll have to play the part, have to muster up some sort of concern for the poor child all alone in the deep wilderness. “Sorry, I lose all my manners when I’m hungry. I’m Sirin, and you are? Let’s fill our bellies and I’ll make sure you get home safely.”
fire in my bloodstream, water in my lungs
@[Nyxa]