Atrani pulls away from the man, but then she is pressed against him again, forced to his chest like a ragdoll. She stumbles on her unstable legs, but he is there to catch her and to hold her while mother remains crumpled on the ground. Defeated, Atrani obliges. His warmth is different from mother’s; his touches aren’t as affectionate or loving. He is controlling, forcing her into place rather than preening like mother. Hesitating, uncertain, afraid. These emotions are new but already sinking venomous fangs into the child as her head moves around to follow the sounds of their voices.
Father is shoving past her then, but not because she is irrelevant. His voice – his heart – is laced with pain that bursts from him like thunder when he sinks to his knees and begs mother not to let go. Is this evil? Atrani knows not what it is, but that she is blind to it, that she will never see how it tears someone apart. Is this what mother wants to protect her from? Staggered steps inch her closer to her parents, closely listening to the desperation in father’s voice. She flinches, as does mother, when Dovev exclaims and when his passion burns his throat like lava. He wants her to stand, to fight for them, to want their happiness. Cerva spares him but a glance. She doesn’t see what has happened to his body – his face is gaunt and spiny plates having ripped his flesh – only the familiarity of his eyes as they meet hers for the first time in months.
His begging destroys her and while she now has the upperhand, she cannot bear to speak up. Beneath his hardened stare, Cerva trembles and crawls inside herself. Her nutmeg eyes shut tightly and her legs curl against her body, afraid, defeated, confused.
Atrani ambles forward then, drawn to their heartache, feeding off their torment. ”Who is he, father?” The stallion hasn’t spoken, but his scent is still pungent and fanning across her every time there is a breeze. ”And why are your scents mingled so much?” Why, when she tries to breathe in father’s scent does she also inhale the stranger’s? ”And who is the other girl?” She can smell her, too, the woman he left to find Cerva. It crosses her mind that it would be best to stay quiet, but she feeds into the heat of this moment, already fueled by their anguish.
Cerva opens her eyes then upon hearing the serene voice slipping from their daughter. She forces herself to look at Dovev. Everything he has said is alive and burning in her mind, shredding her into a million more pieces. ”I’ve never wanted to let go, but you did. You left me when you said you wouldn’t,” but she has been told that lie enough times that it shouldn’t surprise her anymore – yet it does, and yet it still hurts. ”How can I believe you now?” Cerva is slowly - shakily - rising to her feet. She stumbles once, twice, as blood dribbles down her haunches still from the birth. Her body groans and her teeth clench together. First, she looks at their daughter then to Dovev. ”How do I know that this isn’t a lie?” Because she knows how easily she has fallen for lies.
A glance is spared to Zoryn, dwelling on him for a few heartbeats before settling again onto Dovev. ”You will leave me again for her,” a pause as she tilts her head, ”for him.” She tries to reach for Atrani, but the girl shies away from such a forcible touch, unable to fathom the magnitude of the situation anymore, unable to decide who she is to follow and trust. Not pursuing her, Cerva tunnels her attention on Dovev, her eyes glassy with the emotions that are choking her. ”I was never enough for you,” she whispers as her head slowly shakes, ”Just like I was never enough for anyone else.” Not even her own family.
Cerva