for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
Valek is barely beyond his infancy but it doesn’t stop him from puffing up like a grown stallion when faced with a perceived threat. He would not admit that he was a little frightened at first, but as the stranger opens up his posture and speaks gently to him the vulnerability disappears into confidence, Litotes unknowingly training a child that should have been his to be brave and sure of himself. “Yes, she is.” He blurts, proudly jerking his head high under adult's kind praise. The stranger--Litotes--turns to leave, and the boy’s ears flick a little, confused that his opponent is retreating so easily and just when he thought he might like him.
“Valek.” Momma’s voice has that whip crack quality that means she is not going to be bargained with or disobeyed and he turns toward her voice at once.
Kensa pushes past the papery white trunks of the slender trees into the sun splashed open space of the clearing. It felt as though her chest had split open as she watched Lie with her son. All the denials, all the brick and mortar she had erected around her love for him crumbled away. She loved him so intensely in that moment that it seemed like the flare of it would blind her to everything else she felt. By the time she stepped out of the trees and summoned the colt, she realized it was foolish to think they could forget…
”Valek, Litotes is allowed to visit us here. He is part of our family.” The words are like glass in her mouth, but some of her children are his children (all of her children were meant to be his children), and she cannot deny him entry to the nest they chose together. “Go and play now and I will take you to patrol with me tonight.” Its a bit of bribery that will ensure he doesn’t linger or spy. Kensa’s topaz eyes don’t leave the child until he has disappeared down the rocky path and into the trees… Only then do her ears turn back and her features sharpen. She crosses into the center of their meadow, and no further.
Keeping the stream between them, Kensa studies the tall lean stallion, breathing a little too fast, nostrils flared. “Why are you…” here. The words die away. Everything is as fresh as that day he’d drawn her blood in Loess: hurt, love, the strange rage that made her wish she could rip him to pieces. The water at her hooves beckons. She could just teleport away.
He holds her though, more securely than ever and it keeps stealing her breath.
@[litotes]
