theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

Amet was the only thing in her mind. Retracing the conversations, the arguments. Trying to see if she could reach some conclusion as to where her brother had disappeared to that night.

That, and why on earth he had left her and Sakir with Him. 

Why he had left the twins without his protection. 

She had pieced together, from bedtime stories that he had told her, from things that he had shouted at her in the heat of the moment, from hints he had been dropping that he had likely traveled to Beqanna, a far off (and more importantly safe) land whose existence was unknown to most of those residing in the Dunes. Based off of these conclusions, she had decided that she would try and find this new land, and so she, like him, set off in the middle of the night. Alone. 

Her walking was labored as she marched on; her small body smarting from the bruising on her ribs and the somewhat fresh gash running across her neck, both still only a few months old. The contrast she felt between her mind and body was palpable; one was running a mile a minute and the other was broken down and felt as though it would collapse if she was asked to take another step. Finally, those labored steps had carried her to a large clearing, a clearing in which tall grasses danced on the winter wind, resembling puppets on a stage. Weary amber eyes scanned the Meadow, searching for any sign of the slim frame of her brother that had haunted her memory for months. 

She waded through the tall grasses that tickled her shoulders and neck, stumbling over rocks she could not see. The gusts of frosty winter air wracked her body with shivers and threatened to blow her over. She was ready to give up. She had fought long enough, searched hard enough. She was hungry and cold and exhausted. But what did she have to go back to? He would surely kill her, and Sakir, if she returned. Tears stung her eyes and she could feel her heart shrinking in her chest until it felt hollow. 

And then a twig snapped. The simple sound carried on the wind and was the sweetest thing Iset had heard in a very long time. She raised her head carefully, unsure if her neck would support the weight. She finally saw him; Amet stood alone, looking smaller and more forlorn than she’d ever seen him. She raised her head higher than she knew she could, and with a vitality she thought was gone forever, she took her first steps forward. Her thin legs quivered from a combination of nerves and exhaustion as she limped towards her brother with as much pride as she could manage.

...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

Grief, relief, anger, joy, loss. 

Conflicting emotions waged a war in Iset's head as her older brother flew to her side. Her weak body obviously paid no mind to the trepidations flitting around her head, because her bony knees soon buckled, causing her to crash into Amet's side. She used the time he spent speaking and asking questions to gather her courage. Though she lacked the strength to stand, her exhaustion didn't soften the scathing glare that she threw her older brother. "How am I here? How are you here? Who do you think you are, leaving us like that. Do you have any idea how much damage you caused?" She rolled her eyes at his accompanying questions. 

"Of course I didn't tell Shalla. What, do you think I'm a complete idiot?" She jerked at the mention of her twin and with considerable effort heaved her petite frame off of her brother and took a few steps away. Whiskey colored eyes filled with tears that were quickly blinked away, and she shook her narrow head to clear the fog that had descended. 

She couldn't meet the identical pair of eyes that stared at her with a mixture of guilt and curiosity. Couldn't tell him that her fear had gotten the better of her and she'd actually left Sakir behind. But, what other choice did she have? 

"It got worse," she began, "much worse after you ran off." She felt a twinge of sympathy for the colt standing beside her, for how much better was what she did, really? "I don't blame you for leaving," she mumbled, still not ready to dole out a true apology. Accusatory eyes met his, "but you should have taken us. How could you leave us?" Her voice cracked and dropped to a whisper. 

"He thought it was my fault; after all, I was always the one to cause trouble," she added sarcastically. "He thought I told you to go, that I drove you off. And when I told him I didn't know where you'd gone, he-," she stuttered and pawed at the ground as a way to stall. "Well he gave me this, and a lovely set of bruised ribs to start," she tossed her dirty nose to the gash spanning the length of half of her neck and shoulder. 

Her expression changed to one of sympathy, knowing that Amet had to be just as worried about Sakir as she was. "He didn't hurt him when you left," she reassured. "He wouldn't come with me, but... but he's okay still. I- I can feel it." She didn't know how to explain it, but in her heart she knew her twin hadn't been harmed. 

The young filly squared her shoulders and locked out her knees. "So, what now?"

 

...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

Tired eyes narrowed at his defensive response, and the young mare squared her shoulders and prepared herself for one of their legendary fights. He took a few steps away from her, possibly a result of the hurt and anger she felt radiating off of both of their young bodies.

Iset blinked in shock at the words that left her elder brother’s mouth. They ignited another wave of hot fury, and for a moment she was too stunned to speak. When she finally brought herself to speak, she exploded. A cruel laugh escaped her lips before she cared to stop it. “Sorry? You’re sorry? You left us there to die!” She kept on her rampage, not giving him a chance to stop her. “And don’t you dare deny it, because thats exactly what would have ended up happening! At least, if I had stayed.” She said the last bit in a whisper; those words were her guilt and part of the reason her conscience felt so unclean. 

She forced herself not to sympathize with her brother, because at least she knew Sakir wouldn’t be harmed in the Dunes. Her twin would be safe, because Amet was right; he was the favorite. He was the peacekeeper, the docile one. Also known as the exact opposite of her. 

She took slow, deep breaths as Sakir had once taught her. She felt the heat inside her begin to cool and she finally felt calm enough to meet Amet’s eyes.  “Well,” she started, “At least you’re right about one thing.” She couldn’t keep the biting tone out of her words, and had no real desire to. “We can’t keep going like this. We need somewhere to go.” Scathing eyes met his once more, “That is, of course, if you even want me with you."

...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

theres an old man sitting on a throne thats saying...

Aside from flattening his narrow ears against his head, Amet doesn’t move throughout her outburst. This only succeeds in making her angrier. He’s her brother, yes. But right now she wants him to hurt. She wants him to feel the whispers of forgotten pain that continued to lash across her mind and body. 

Iset rolled bright eyes, “Typical,” she muttered under her breath. She knew, without a doubt, that Sakir would tell her to let it go. She tried. She tried really hard. And for now, she pushed her temper down like a ball being shoved under the water.

Amet’s calculating eyes trail her sides as they balloon with air, barely stretching over her protruding ribs. Their matching eyes were flames hiding behind sheets of ice; unyielding and absolute. 

Neither was willing to let their guard down for long enough to melt the frosty shield and see past the facade the other was hiding behind, so they just stood there, staring at each other. She fought the ball of her temper that was threatening to burst to the surface, clenching her jaw and grinding her teeth to try and force it deeper and deeper below. 

Iset cackled and bumped her brother in the shoulder, shocking herself with how weak she was when she almost knocked herself over. Large eyes blinked slowly, looking far too large in her thin face. She recovered quickly, sliding the wall back up to hide her shock and disappointment in her own physical insufficiency. 

She laughed again, but this time it sounded forced and unused, “So you finally made some friends, have you brother?” she taunted, “Well thats new.” She looked around searchingly, “Where is this girl, Amet?” she teased, “Hiding away in your head with all the rest of your imaginary friends?” She scoffed. Iset shook her metallic head firmly, becoming abnormally serious for her, “I want to go somewhere new. Somewhere we can both have a completely new start."

...I should probably keep my pretty mouth shut