la jeune fille marquée
She knows Gryffen well enough to understand that he will want to reclaim her body. Every cell of her being, remade and refined through fire, reeks of Carnage and the white wolf will not stand for that. The dark god fulfilled his purposes but she does not belong to him. Minette thinks with grim satisfaction that it will not sit well with her captor that she is marked by another. For the first time she relishes the pain of the still healing brand.
The walk to the mountains is a short and quiet one. Gryffen is almost courteous, no doubt waiting for the right moment to remind her of who he is.
As if she could forget. As if the depths of her soul have not been ravaged by him. She prays that he did not see her contemptuous look to Straia, and that he has grown mellow in the ages, to her, since she has seen him. But she knows better.
Minette thinks of the others. Are the lives they are returning to as dismal as hers? Perhaps they are all captives, no matter where they roam. Forever the voice of the dark god will haunt her own dreams. She cannot hope that any of the others have escaped unscathed.
And then she thinks of her daughter, a trail in her mind she tries her best not to follow often. The girl will be a yearling in the spring. She was smoky black with brown eyes when the pale gray mare last saw her. Has she changed? Has she grown into the legginess common to all foals? Minette misses Anguisette with an ache that is deeper than any Gryffen or Carnage can inflict on her, but it also a balm on her heart that the Amazons have taken her in. It is the safest place for a girl from a broken family.
I am her broken family. And she deserves better.
She remembers the feel of flames enveloping her body, and Minette trembles, stumbling over the borders into Gryffen's land. Stark terror and dread are evident in her body and she whirls around to face the white stallion. Her mind freezes and she has nothing to say, her chest heaving as she struggles to calm herself.
Why? she thinks bitterly. Why have I survived hell only to return to its fallen angel?
The walk to the mountains is a short and quiet one. Gryffen is almost courteous, no doubt waiting for the right moment to remind her of who he is.
As if she could forget. As if the depths of her soul have not been ravaged by him. She prays that he did not see her contemptuous look to Straia, and that he has grown mellow in the ages, to her, since she has seen him. But she knows better.
Minette thinks of the others. Are the lives they are returning to as dismal as hers? Perhaps they are all captives, no matter where they roam. Forever the voice of the dark god will haunt her own dreams. She cannot hope that any of the others have escaped unscathed.
And then she thinks of her daughter, a trail in her mind she tries her best not to follow often. The girl will be a yearling in the spring. She was smoky black with brown eyes when the pale gray mare last saw her. Has she changed? Has she grown into the legginess common to all foals? Minette misses Anguisette with an ache that is deeper than any Gryffen or Carnage can inflict on her, but it also a balm on her heart that the Amazons have taken her in. It is the safest place for a girl from a broken family.
I am her broken family. And she deserves better.
She remembers the feel of flames enveloping her body, and Minette trembles, stumbling over the borders into Gryffen's land. Stark terror and dread are evident in her body and she whirls around to face the white stallion. Her mind freezes and she has nothing to say, her chest heaving as she struggles to calm herself.
Why? she thinks bitterly. Why have I survived hell only to return to its fallen angel?