Dead. It was all dead. Charred, rotted, the soil still infused with ash. The lake, once glorious and a true wonder now no more than soupy pit of death. The rotting fish leaving it sour. Sakir lingered not far from Amet who stood ever solemn beneath his dead tree. He’d found a strange comfort in being near his brother without the need to express words. Perhaps a silent sentinel of sorts. He was here if Amet needed him though his brother had handled the chaos like a king. Resourceful and pragmatic. Whilst he’d remained numb. And still was…
He’d been there. Watching and waiting for his twin having not seen sight of her for days. He’d seen Iset bring that colt into the kingdom, secretively and stealthily through the shadows of night. He’d known it had not been right, he had felt it. It chilled his heart to realise that such an uneasy feeling had been warranted. Was it true what they said? That Iset had been the one who led destruction into their home? Was it so black and white? No. He refused believe that. Couldn’t. There had to be something more. Surely it hadn’t been willing. Iset understood what unnecessary pain and suffering was. She’d lived it time and time again from him. Surely she would not inflict such devastation willingly upon them all.
And as if materialising from his thoughts, her hoof falls bore into their silence. Iset came to them. No, not them. Iset went to Amet. Her legs marked red with hurt where those tendrils had caught about her and strangled her tight. He knew now that was Maugrim’s doing, the boy who had trailed her. How she freed herself from those restraints he did not know. But he felt her pain in the pains of his own. From his scabbed over cuts and the bruising still present unseen beneath his dark hairs though he felt the incessant ache of them. His left eye could not yet open properly and his head still throbbed from the swelling.
Instinctively he moved to go to his siblings and took but one step when something held him in place. This moment was for them. He could not hear her words, nor his brother’s, though he could read the hardness in the way Amet held himself. Sakir held his breath. And then Iset fled.
He surged forward. It did not take him long to reach his brother’s side. “Where is she going?” he asked. And then he noticed the wet streaks trailing down Amet’s cheek and he suddenly felt nauseous and dizzy and panicked. “Amet.” His brother’s name solid on his tongue. “Is she coming back?” He feared an answer he did not want to hear.
@[Iset] @[Amet]