your mouth is poison; your mouth is wine
(you think your dreams are the same as mine)
Ledger had infected her thoughts since the first time they had met.
It had been a turbulent meeting—from the initial horror in his eyes to the gentle trip to the Gates where she had been awestruck by the grandiose tree watching over the kingdom. She had left—would always leave, she feared—but he had stuck with her like a burr under her skin. Now, when she wandered through the meadows, it was the flaxen of his mane that she caught herself looking for or the doubt that seemed to bruise his eyes. Every day, she found herself looking for him and, so far, every day she was disappointed.
That is, until now. She feels the air suck out of her lungs as she sees him and her heart shatters in her chest at the wounds inflicted upon him. Adaline does not take long to find her way toward him, moving as quickly as she can manage until she is by the battered stallion’s side, pressing up against him desperately, as if proving to herself that he was still alive, as if his warmth could promise that he would stay that way.
“Ledger,” she whispers softly, her voice cracking along the edges. “What happened to you?” Her fragile mouth wanders over the strength of his neck until it comes to rest on his cheek next to the infected area. She unfurls one of her wings and drapes it over his back to stop the shivering, although she knows that it is a futile attempt. Adaline was never equipped to protect those she loved, no matter how she wanted to.