It was a strange feeling to leave the only home she had ever known, to look back on the cracks of bright molten magma, like veins of gleaming gold carved into the sides of the volcano, and know that she wouldn’t be seeing them again for a long time. That instead of steam hanging like ghosts over a hot spring, instead of wide open places, she would wake to a sky blotted out by a forest as ancient as her bloodline, to trees too wide to see past. It wasn’t that this change was bad though, it didn’t scare her to be faced with something new and unfamiliar, it was just that this would be the first change.
She turns to bump her nose against Emmalyn’s dark shoulder, those amber eyes round and soft with hesitant light. The closer it came to leaving, the more she became aware of the weight sitting like stone in her chest. She would miss the friends they had made – the healing twins and the older boy with the wings, would miss Magnus kind face if only because she had seen it nearly every day. But Newton calls them to him, calls them away from the place that had always been home, and Ava moves reluctantly to his side, pressing the delicate curve of her turquoise cheek against the slope of his roan shoulder. Only when Tephra is just a blur of steamy land in the distance does she pause and turn back and, in a whisper that is impossibly soft, says “goodbye.”
It doesn’t take long to reach Taiga, and Ava is silently delighted by how close it is in relation to Tephra. This knowledge is enough to ease loose that knot of homesickness where it sits heavy in her chest. When the four of them stop she is overcome by the immensity of the forest, by the girth of the trees and the thick bed of pine needles that feel strange and spongy underfoot. Unlike either of her fathers who have opted to wait respectfully at the edge of the land, Ava ducks beneath their chins and bounds forward, running the dark of her delicate nose along the knots of bark and sap in the nearest trees. She is in love with this place at once, quieted by the wisdom of the forest and the cloying odor of pine and musk and damp earth. It feels wild and quiet all at once, calling to the wanderlust in her young heart.
One, two, three strides deeper into the trees when a mottled stallion with ice wings materializes from the shadows of the deep woods. It is so unexpected to find someone staring back at her that the small turquoise weanling balks and scurries back to her fathers, tucking herself neatly into the crook of Newton’s chest until the thundering of her heart slowed. But when he appears again behind her, a grey mare in tow, she finds that there is only kindness in his face, only warmth in their eyes when they greet her family. This must be Reagan and Ruan. With soft, wide eyes the color of crushed gold, she eases out from beneath Newton’s chin, pressing closer to the strangers so that she can see them better. Then, with a voice like a bell, she says, “My name is Ava,” and, belatedly, “I think I love your forest.”
She turns to bump her nose against Emmalyn’s dark shoulder, those amber eyes round and soft with hesitant light. The closer it came to leaving, the more she became aware of the weight sitting like stone in her chest. She would miss the friends they had made – the healing twins and the older boy with the wings, would miss Magnus kind face if only because she had seen it nearly every day. But Newton calls them to him, calls them away from the place that had always been home, and Ava moves reluctantly to his side, pressing the delicate curve of her turquoise cheek against the slope of his roan shoulder. Only when Tephra is just a blur of steamy land in the distance does she pause and turn back and, in a whisper that is impossibly soft, says “goodbye.”
It doesn’t take long to reach Taiga, and Ava is silently delighted by how close it is in relation to Tephra. This knowledge is enough to ease loose that knot of homesickness where it sits heavy in her chest. When the four of them stop she is overcome by the immensity of the forest, by the girth of the trees and the thick bed of pine needles that feel strange and spongy underfoot. Unlike either of her fathers who have opted to wait respectfully at the edge of the land, Ava ducks beneath their chins and bounds forward, running the dark of her delicate nose along the knots of bark and sap in the nearest trees. She is in love with this place at once, quieted by the wisdom of the forest and the cloying odor of pine and musk and damp earth. It feels wild and quiet all at once, calling to the wanderlust in her young heart.
One, two, three strides deeper into the trees when a mottled stallion with ice wings materializes from the shadows of the deep woods. It is so unexpected to find someone staring back at her that the small turquoise weanling balks and scurries back to her fathers, tucking herself neatly into the crook of Newton’s chest until the thundering of her heart slowed. But when he appears again behind her, a grey mare in tow, she finds that there is only kindness in his face, only warmth in their eyes when they greet her family. This must be Reagan and Ruan. With soft, wide eyes the color of crushed gold, she eases out from beneath Newton’s chin, pressing closer to the strangers so that she can see them better. Then, with a voice like a bell, she says, “My name is Ava,” and, belatedly, “I think I love your forest.”
Ava
sahm x newton