09-09-2017, 10:34 AM
 i'll use you as a makeshift gauge of how much to give and how much to take He waits, scuffing one pale hoof in the dry soil. A saguaro stands sentinel to his left, and he watches as a small owl emerges, blinks, and soars off into the darkening sky. He’s seen owls in Taiga before – not ones just like that one, but still owls – and the memory cuts into his nervous anticipation. He quells it almost immediately; Ivar does not want to think of everything that was lost beneath the sea. The hills in front of him are orange and red, painted by the setting sun. It is there he is watching for a response to his call; he does not think to look to the sky. He starts at the sudden thunder of hooves, whipping his head in the direction of the sound and searching for the source with narrowed brown eyes. Silhouetted against the sun, it takes him a moment to recognize the approaching mare. Ivar has an apology ready (though he’s quite sure that he’s not crossed the border!), but it falls away as he recognizes Heda. She rushes toward him, and he returns the embrace with enthusiasm. Her buckskin figure is warm against him, and he wraps his scaled neck over hers and holds her tightly against him for a long moment. Though her wings hide her barrel, Ivar can tell from the shape of her that their early fall engagement had not resulted in a child. He feels strangely conflicted now that he is certain of the outcome. He had expected relief at the lack of sudden paternal responsibility, yet that relief is muted by an unexpected feeling of (failure.) Still, the elation apparent in Heda’s eyes as she ran toward him assures him that despite his quick departure in the fall, the emotions he had felt were not at all one sided. “I missed you too,” he says against her cheek. The thrum of her heartbeat is soothing in his ear, and he breathes in her scent. It is nothing like the sea or redwoods, and when he calls her: “My love,” it seems only right that he replaces loss with something entirely new. |