When Caw closes her eyes, she remembers those old crows that kept them prisoner—the sad children whom they punished, whom they tortured for the sins of their immortal parents. They had feared no one except Cordis. Caw wonders what that’s like, to be so powerful that even Death’s own dutiful sentinels feared her.
Caw feels the tingling touch of electricity as lightning flickers across Cordis, she savors the sensation. Her hairs standing on end, an involuntary shudder running down the length of her spine, it all draws a soft weary sigh from the oily black mare. “What became of me?” Caw blinks, carefully considering the words. She had never sought power. Not a throne, not magic. Her natural born gifts had been enough. Living had been enough.
“I made a family,” she smiles, thinking fondly of her children—of Virgo. She had never loved anyone else half as much. Her smile curves slowly into a frown. “I… lost a child, someone murdered her.”
‘And then I ran and left them all because I couldn’t find who did it, because the shame I felt over not being able to protect her was too much to bear.’
Caw finishes the last bit in her head, though Cordis could hear that, too, if she so desires. The shapeshifter has let down her defenses, there’s no need to have them up—no, not here. Not among friends. She trusts Cordis with her life; after all, she is the one who gave it it her, and Caw, like the bold little child she has always been, dares to feel safe in her presence.
“Still,” Caw says quietly, her ears laying back. “Despite this, I am grateful for what you did.”
It’s a secret she has never told anyone else—not Virgo, not her many acquaintances. No one. As far as they are concerned, she just appeared one day, as some horses in Beqanna are prone to doing, and made nothing of herself. They would never know of the monster she slayed, nevermind the fact that he was her father; they would never speak of her keeping his soul at bay or the battle among the constellations. No. Tarnished would, hopefully, never return and the rest of their world would be better for it—Caw’s story untold, Cordis’ kindness forgotten.
[Writing from my phone, I’m sorry for any mistakes!]
Caw feels the tingling touch of electricity as lightning flickers across Cordis, she savors the sensation. Her hairs standing on end, an involuntary shudder running down the length of her spine, it all draws a soft weary sigh from the oily black mare. “What became of me?” Caw blinks, carefully considering the words. She had never sought power. Not a throne, not magic. Her natural born gifts had been enough. Living had been enough.
“I made a family,” she smiles, thinking fondly of her children—of Virgo. She had never loved anyone else half as much. Her smile curves slowly into a frown. “I… lost a child, someone murdered her.”
‘And then I ran and left them all because I couldn’t find who did it, because the shame I felt over not being able to protect her was too much to bear.’
Caw finishes the last bit in her head, though Cordis could hear that, too, if she so desires. The shapeshifter has let down her defenses, there’s no need to have them up—no, not here. Not among friends. She trusts Cordis with her life; after all, she is the one who gave it it her, and Caw, like the bold little child she has always been, dares to feel safe in her presence.
“Still,” Caw says quietly, her ears laying back. “Despite this, I am grateful for what you did.”
It’s a secret she has never told anyone else—not Virgo, not her many acquaintances. No one. As far as they are concerned, she just appeared one day, as some horses in Beqanna are prone to doing, and made nothing of herself. They would never know of the monster she slayed, nevermind the fact that he was her father; they would never speak of her keeping his soul at bay or the battle among the constellations. No. Tarnished would, hopefully, never return and the rest of their world would be better for it—Caw’s story untold, Cordis’ kindness forgotten.
[Writing from my phone, I’m sorry for any mistakes!]