my shadow tilts its head at me,
spirits in the dark are waiting.
It doesn’t take her long to figure out what he is. A puppeteer; a master of shadows. She pops through portals around him, reappearing here and there around him. He does not move, does not flinch. He can feel where she goes through the portals, track her from one place to the next. At first, behind her, and there’s a part of him that’s vaguely tempted to stop her before she throws up a second portal.
He could stop her, after all. She is made of shadows, and he controls the darkness. At least, he thinks he could stop her. He knows, certainly, he could rip the shadow portals away from her. But he does nothing of the sort. He lets her pop around, out of anger or uncertainty or just because that’s what she does, he has no idea. Rhonan’s strong suit has never been reading emotions. He’s no empath, and doesn’t have even a normal horse’s level of empathy.
Though he understands her more than he can understand anyone else. But of course, he understands all shadows. Still, emotions baffle him. Though her dislike of his power is clear enough. He may not be able to read between the lines, but he’s not stupid either. She’s pretty obvious about it.
She’s touching him now, nose to his shadow coat. Still, he doesn’t move. He simply says, “I do not tell. I ask.” Because he cannot tell the shadows what to do. When he tried that, he kept falling through portals and ending up on top of other horses. But Rhynn talk him acceptance, and when he accepted the shadows, they accepted him. He asks, and they listen. It is that simple.
Finally, finally he turns to her. In the darkness, the orange ring in his eyes is bright and noticeable. In the daytime, his eyes are simply muddy brown. But of course, Rhonan has become a creature of the night. “Imagine what we could do together, Anatasia.”
Around them, the darkness takes shape. Not just portals, but animal shapes, solidifying into creatures with teeth and claws, eyes drawn to the shadow mare just as Rhonan’s are. The slink forward, as if waiting for a command. But they do not look to Rhonan, and he does not ask them to.
rhonan.