if you do not have shadows,
 you are not in the light

He reassures her that there is no need to apologize, and after a brief second of feeling overwhelmingly bad, she relaxes. An exhale first, and then her heart rate recovers and her breath becomes less shallow. Everyone is so nice here.

“The mist is much thicker here, than in the field…” she agrees, looking off into the distance watching mist crowd around the redwoods and their obnoxious trunks. While she can hardly remember the field, she also cannot remember a mist this thick. It’s more of a rarity in the field with the dry air, but here with the ocean so close and the moisture so abundant… Well, it’s a lot.

It takes time for her to think about the right answer: how does she like Taiga? It’s nice. It’s big and there are a lot of strange horses and her mother isn’t one of them, but yes… Nice. Everything about the Taiga is actually great, except that her mother isn’t there.

“I like it. I have made a friend, which is good.” She nods, still thinking as she continues, “Kalil is nice. And now you, I guess. You are nice. It feels good to just live, especially when in the field we--I spent so long surviving,” Ruth feels awkward speaking for her mother, she isn’t sure her mother is done surviving yet.

“Pteron,” she mimics slowly, adjusting to the new name sounding more distinguished and mature, “you must have lived here awhile now. Why have you stayed?”

Ruthless

if you do not have shadows,
 you are not in the light

His exhaustion is familiar, the same lines of stress and worry form on her mother. They cling the life and adventure from their eyes with savagery, stealing the happiness right out from under them. Even his voice is the drowned suffocation of practice and duty.

“You’re… Ruler?” She exhales in embarrassment, and then judgment. Should she have kneeled, bowed, something? Does he want to be called majesty, or king? Her mind furiously spirals before reminding her that he did introduce him as Pteron.

So, maybe he isn’t the type. Or, maybe the title is the problem. Maybe the title drains him barren like the slow drip of a bottle, until all that is left is the slow, occasional slip of optimism.

“I am sorry I didn’t introduce myself sooner… I am not—um—familiar with the dynamics of Taiga yet,” In all honesty, she had been so caught up in her mother she hadn’t really met anyone aside from Aten and Kalil.

He asks her of her favourite place, and Ruthless thinks long and hard. The mysterious shadows cast by oversized Redwoods, the salt-water sensation tickling at her sides as she wafts belly deep amongst the waves, but nothing will ever replace the special spot Kalil had showed her.

“There is a small clearing on the beach, a path carved with sand and wet rocks and barely wide enough to fit one explorer. And at the end of the sand path—when the tide has withdrawn—is a small pool where you can see a glittery, reflective surface layer. It’s like staring at a million stars all at once,” her eyes imagine the sharp gold and aquamarine mash glinting beneath the movement of the water.

“Do you take your daughter to your favourite place?” She asks, wondering what it must be like to have two devoted parents.

The abundance of love; is it suffocating? Or the kind of pressure that lulls you to sleep?

Ruthless

if you do not have shadows,
 you are not in the light

She sees his mind churn with every sentence she speaks, carefully calculating every response as if grenades were laid out before him. Curiosity lingers but she knows better than to pry, he doesn’t seem like the type to tolerate it.

“Sometimes things matter more than your role,” if she could ignore the disappointment in his tone, she would. But it hit her like harder than a rock plunging down a cliff into an unknown end.

There he goes, lost again. She wonders what he thinks about. Sometimes Ruthless thinks of what her mother is doing, how how she is doing. Sometimes she wonders if Kalil is thinking of her.

How is Lilliana fairing? Has Eurwen recruited recently?

Other times she thinks of the ocean, and the caressing waves. Or the giant trunks that casted large dark shadows that she just knew her mother would like. The way the twinkling sparkle of sand glistened in the last moments of light as orange and red hues disappeared behind the never-ending sea.

Mother would like him. He is calm, and kind. He would make her feel safe.

He is doing his job pretty well, from her perspective.

“It is quite nice. My mother raised me in the fields and forest before, nothing there really compares to here. It’s quite lonely, despite the traffic…” her warm voice softens and disappears, swallowed by the air between them as her eyes drift off—waiting for minutes to pass until the sun set so they could slink from the shadows to eat and drink, silent and listening for movement or danger.

Perhaps she does think of more than she realized.

Ruthless