The big mare is quiet, and Ramiel wonders if she is still lingering in her own concerns for their charge. He follows Eld’s gaze to the smaller mare, watches as Soliel looks out across the Dale. The grey stallion doesn’t have to mimic her sweeping view to know where each and every feature of the place is - the Dale is as familiar to him as the face of his mother. He’d hoped that some clarity would come into her eyes once they arrived. He’d thought she would recognize a landmark or cry out at the sight of the almost-frozen river glinting in the background. But she’s as wide-eyed as she’d been in the Field. Nothing seems to spark her frozen mind in a way he’d thought it might; he only hopes she will remember in the days to come.
She thanks him, to which he simply shakes his head. “Of course,” he says gently, a puff of warmed air trailing off his lips. It’s still rather cold, despite their relative protection underneath hills that serve as natural wind barriers. He’s about to ask her if she is still dangerously chilled when he sees her swaying. Ramiel sidles closer to the white girl, taking up residence along her side, supporting her like he had been before. Just because they’ve made it to the kingdom, it doesn’t mean she will have restored herself to full health upon crossing the borders. It will take longer for her mind to thaw than her body, he thinks.
When he questions her well-being, Soliel responds in a way that is just as he feared she might. She doesn’t remember a single thing, apart from the Dale being a place she had lived. A single tear runs along her cheek, glistening in the too-bright winter sun. The young man doesn’t know what to do; his thoughts race trying to come up with answers for the memory-less woman. Could he ask the older residents if they knew her? Would she even remember them if they said they did? He supposes it can’t hurt to try. “Not many of the faces have likely remained since you were here last. I can take you around and introduce you – perhaps just seeing the entirety of the kingdom will jog your memory, too…”
He trails off, lost in thinking of other plans to help the returned Dalean. She must be older than him, at least by a little. He doesn’t remember her from his recent childhood years. Some part of him thrills at having to help Soliel; some aspect of his personality shines when he takes up the role of knight to save a damsel. Ramiel can feel that familiar pride of his welling up in his chest, somewhere in the space around his heart. It makes him think that anything is possible, that they will learn everything the blue-eyed girl wants to remember, and then some. It makes him tell her, “we will figure this out, Soliel, don’t you worry. But first you need to rest and recover.” His muzzle touches her cheek softly, just enough to wipe away the frozen tear, before he withdraws, not wanting to offend her with his nearness.
Ramiel
ghost king of the dale