"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
A songbird’s tune stirs Cerva from her rest. It’s just barely audible as the sound travels from the treetops to her den below ground. Lifting her head slowly the girl blinks away her hazy vision and stares into the shadows of her small home. A sheet of sunlight reaches down through the burrowed entrance, but never touches her coat. The heat alone is enough to warn of the summer, but it’s waning. Autumn is approaching, she knows, and she flinches into a sit when she considers how long she had been hibernating. Many sunrises and sunsets have elapsed since she last opened her eyes and drank in the scenery, but age never touched her. There is no ache in her bones or exhaustion in her muscles. When she stretches she still feels young as though she had somehow drunk from the fountain of youth. When she peers up at the entrance of her den it’s still with that innocent curiosity so often found in children.
A shudder runs down the length of her back as she stares at the opening in the ground, wondering. Will father be there? What of her siblings? Will they still be around or did they tuck themselves into the shadows like her?
No, her family is much more ambitious and successful. They wouldn’t hide like their craven daughter or sister.
After swallowing past the lump in her throat she inches toward the edge and is immediately enveloped by the bright summer sun. It cradles her like a worried mother, caressing her small body and welcoming her back after so long. ”Hello,”she whispers sweetly as a smile shakily appears on her lips. Vines of poison ivy are intertwined around her den much like a spider web that she had intricately created. It reminds her of who – what – she is.
Her body shakes away the debris and fluidly shifts from a badger to a horse. Her claws are traded for hooves, her jagged teeth for blunt, and her larger blaze formed of tree bark.
A long breath is drawn in and held. Her eyes shut for a moment then flutter open when the air is exhaled in hesitation. Somehow she had found herself near the Gates border. Something lured her as a badger, enough so to burrow and seclude herself nearby for all this time. It stands in front of her now; she knows the different kingdoms, their locations, their scents, their etiquette. Everything rushes back now as her mind wraps around being here, being in her true form. She doesn’t venture in even as she hears voices on the horizon. Even when she knows they’re there, Cerva is a statue and resigns to waiting patiently as she tries to refigure her longer legs.
we carry these things inside that no one else can see they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea
It was an oddity for him to be here, patrolling the borders when the sun was still cresting and the kingdom was washed in its light. It was not his usual pattern of rising with the morning fog and making the trek to the field, coming home only when had a new member at his hip or when he was chasing the moon.
But today was not normal. He had not shaken the fury from the kingdom meeting from his bones—could not dislodge the discomfort from his throat. It was wedged there between his shoulder blades and in his throat, a constant reminder. It made him uncomfortable and short-tempered, the normal charm dropping from him as he stalked around the kingdom, keeping to himself where the shadows played.
In the distance, he could hear the faint chattering of birds and horses alike, the sound of life on the breeze. The sound of a kingdom gently awakening after years of slumber. It was the only thing that brought even the smallest of smiles to his scarred lips, his gold-flecked eyes widening a little as he lifted his head toward the source of the sound, breeze lifting his mane away from his sweat-soaked flesh.
The Gates would rise again—like a phoenix from the ashes.
He knew it. He believed it. (He had to.)
Magnus, however, was so wrapped up in his own thoughts that he almost did not see the mare standing along the edge. He snorted in surprise and then laughed the sound peeling from his throat. “Oh, I didn’t see you!” He grinned a little, tucking away the anger in the back of his mind. “Which I suppose makes me rather inept at patrolling the borders in the first place.” You had to admit your weakness first. “My name is Magnus.” He looked up to catch her gaze. “And who do I have the pleasure of meeting today?”
She sees him long before he sees her. The overhang of branches dapples the sunlight across her body while the gold, orange, and scarlet leaves drift down to land at her feet. There is no denying how heavy his thoughts are and how preoccupied he is with them. She wonders, briefly, if he was one of the voices she heard in the distance, squabbling and disagreeing. Cerva doesn’t call to him but instead keeps her lips pursed into a tight line and expects to be passed. She’s used to, after all, being disregarded like she was just another face in the crowd. There is no way she can stand out like mother or father. They have an air about them while she, sweet little Cerva, is reserved and reclusive on most days.
Much to her surprise, however, the distance between them closes but he doesn’t realize until they are only a short reach away. ”Hello,” her voice is delicate when she replies and her eyes peer up at him from underneath her forelock. She manages a weak smile while her head lowers below his (I am inferior, she thinks) and her gaze flickers away hesitantly before finding him again and his kind smile. ”You have a lot on your mind so it’s no fault of your own,” a breath catches in her throat and she hesitates, ”and I’m pretty easy to miss.” She doesn’t stand out like so many others. The only difference that she holds is the white bark that takes the place of soft hair down her face.
”I’m Cerva,” she finally introduces herself and her head lifts slightly because despite it all she is still somewhat proud of who she is, of her name. ”I was going to join in the group to introduce myself, but it didn’t sound like it was going well so I held off. I heard all the voices and I thought it would be a little awkward to interrupt just to introduce myself.” They would have stared at her, scoffed at her, maybe even have chased her from the conversation because she couldn’t offer anything. It wasn’t worth it and so she waited on the outskirts for a moment like this – to finally be seen.
we carry these things inside that no one else can see they hold us down like anchors; they drown us out at sea
“It is that obvious?” he replies with a laugh, amused at how perceptive she was while simultaneously wishing he was a little better at masking his own emotions. You would think that by now he would have figured out a better way of shielding them from the world around him; it certainly had never done him any good to wear his heart on his sleeve. It either hurt the people around him or made him vulnerable to attack. One day, he would have to figure out a way to wear a thicker armor—guard himself more.
Today was, clearly and unfortunately, just not that day.
“I do indeed have a lot on my mind, but heaven help me on the day where I say a pretty mare like you is hard to miss.” His scarred lips lifted into a roguish smile, ears perking between the thicket of his tangled, inky forelock. She was indeed easy on the eyes, and he was not against telling a woman so. “I am glad to have stumbled across you today. It is certainly a better alternative to what I was planning on doing.”
He frowns a little when she mentions the raised voices and he looks off into the distance, wondering if the meeting was still going on. He had stormed away after having said his piece, and while he didn’t regret taking his leave…he did regret not making sure that everyone else was in a good place. He just had to hope that it was better to shield them from the full breadth of his temper than whatever else may happen.
“Ah, yes,” he finally responds, doubt flickering over his expression before he shakes the thought from him. “It is perhaps best you avoided that situation. There are some heated tempers.” He gave her a gentle smile and stepped to the side. “I apologize that you came to the kingdom on such a day.” Normally, the Gates were bright, vibrant—peaceful. It was unfortunate that she was exposed to what he saw as such atypical behavior. “I would be happy to escort you around though or answer any questions you may have.”
Laughter almost bursts from her lips. Pretty? Her? Unaccustomed to compliments Cerva immediately looks away as her chest tightens. Her breath catches in her throat and she shakes her head slowly at first but then quicker. ”No, you must be mistaken or your vision is failing you,” she manages a humored laugh as though that will ease the sting of her self-proclaimed truth, ”I’m quite the boring, plain Jane.” Nothing like mother with her body riddled with everything associated with spring, and nothing like father who could do anything he possibly wanted to himself. Cerva’s body is almost rigid underneath Magnus’ stare and her mouth opens to speak again but no words fall. She purses her lips shut again and funnels her attention on a single daisy nearby in attempt to muster her strength, as fleeting as it is.
His kindness isn’t off-putting, but it almost startles her how gracious he is. It seems to be a rare quality, or at least in her experience it is. Perhaps it is due to her upbringing in the Valley or the mere awareness of how much darkness looms over their world. Grateful, she manages a shy, ”Thank you,” before pausing and following his eyes to the distance where there had been cacophonous voices only hours prior. Cerva’s shoulders ripple in a shrug. ”There are often heated debates when it’s related to a kingdom,” there is confidence in her voice this time because she just knows how exactly kingdom residents can be when their home is jeopardized. ”It happens,” a smile stretches across her lips as a means to disprove the need for his apology. ”If you don’t mind my asking though, what was everyone getting heated about?” On one side this is her home and she is curious as to what lies in the land she is about to tie herself to, but on the other, Magnus could perceive her as too new, too innocent, to the Gate’s ways to disclose the information; nonetheless, it never hurts to ask.
With the sun at her back and the kingdom opening in front of her Cerva glances up at Magnus and nods slowly. ”A tour around would be lovely,” hesitation holds her in place long enough for her own poison ivy to wrap around her legs. Rooted at first she considers her next actions, her future decisions. This probably isn’t where father (or mother) would want her. Do they want their daughter in the Gates versus her birth home in the Valley? Her heart patters against her chest as she looks back across her shoulders then to Magnus again. ”Show me your favorite spot,” the ivy releases her and she moves into the embrace of the kingdom, finally making her first confident decision.
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