"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
She moves slowly, pressing through foliage around the unfamiliar paths. This is not a well-trod path, she’s beginning to realize – perhaps she should have actually gone with Pharaon rather than try to find her way here several weeks later. There’s no turning back now, she tells herself., there’s only forward.
(That, and the plants are too thick for her to even turn – she’s have to walk backward the entire way she came, and that she simply refuses to do.)
Eventually she finds herself in a clearing. It’s not one like she’s ever seen before, because there is no sky overhead, just more green and brown. Somewhere, she is sure, there is sky, but it is not here.
After shaking her head to clear the sweaty strands of her black mane from her face, Dorne looks around. She has never been in the Jungle before – she had never had any reason to – but she supposes that while she is here she might as well take in the sights. Raising her head, she calls for anyone within earshot. She should tell them she is staying here, she thinks, even if it is only for a little while, just until the spring.
The Jungle’s birds and monkeys alert Scorch – and any other nearby sisters – of a foreign presence far before the call comes. Though loud, the animals’ voices were not urgent per say, and thus, Scorch does not intrude until summoned to do so. She’s not that impolite, you know.
Imperceptibly, a lid slips over her eye balls. Using heat vision, the Khaleesi pinpoints the newcomer’s exact location. Slipping easily through the trees and the vines which she has long stood amongst, Scorch arrives swiftly in the clearing which the large mare stands. Scorch recognizes her scent, but until the sight-modifying lid sweeps away, she has no recollection of who this might be.
”Dorne!” She exclaims huskily. Surprise shows momentarily on her face, though given her face, it could be perceived as suspicion. Such nonsensical thoughts which may exist should be banished when a small smile graces Scorch’s very ungraceful face. ”Fancy meeting you here.”
Easing her large sum of weight on to her right hind leg, Scorch sighs slightly. Never because of the spotted woman's presence, but because of how uncomfortable she is in her own skin. Her child has grown incredibly rapidly - but it is yet to early for suspicion to be truly aroused within her. For today, she is secure in the false knowledge that she carries only one life within her. "How has your search for a home been going? Well, I hope."
She has not noticed the alarm calls of the jungle residents – she had assumed that the place was always full of screams. When an equine figure appears through the foliage and the calls cease, she does glance upward, searching for the animals that are hidden just out of sight. When she returns her attention to the mare, Dorne recognizes Scorch from their brief meeting in the Field several years ago.
She had been looking for a home then as well, but life has dealt her an entirely new hand since their first meeting.
“I met an Amazon – Pharaon – and she invited me.” I’m taking the offer a bit delayed, she doesn’t add, but there’s no need. As long as the grey mare gets a little credit for Doine’s time here – however brief it is. Dorne can give the Amazon that much at least; she remembers what it is like to serve a kingdom.
“It’s been…” she hesitates, momentarily unsure, and then simply says: “Slow. It’s been slow. I’m not sure if I belong anywhere. ” Those final words are accompanied with a shrug of her broad shoulders. She acts nonchalant, but there is something deeper in her expression. Though she smiles, it does not quite reach her eyes.
Scorch knew her mother, Dorne remembers suddenly; Scorch might have expectations as to what kind of mare Dorne is. And that though is what has her speaking again; she does not want to disappoint her mother, or to lower the expectations others might have of children borne by Lyric of the Dale.
“I’m pregnant.” She says without preamble. “And I needed somewhere to spend the winter, and where my child would be safe for a while.” The Field is not safe, they both know it. The common lands are no place to raise a child, and especially not two. Dorne has no experience with children, but she had been at her mother’s side as Lyric’s spotted belly swelled to twice the normal size. Dorne had seen her enormous twin brothers born, and she has felt kicks from two sets of legs. “I’m having twins,” she tells Scorch, and as soon as she says it she is not sure why she has done so.
”I’m pleased to hear that. Pharaon is a hard worker.” The praise slips easily from her tongue, for unlike that which she gives to her children, she is comfortable giving it. She reminds herself to mention it at the next kingdom meeting. Immediately after the thought, she reminds herself to actually call a kingdom meeting. Soon. Once the Deserts have given their answer.
An expression of slight confusion and slighter pity flashes momentarily on Scorch’s face when Dorne laments about the slowness of life. ”You will find a place. Not today, perhaps, but we all do eventually. And slow can be better than fast.” She’d been about to say that she has always known where she belongs, but figured at the last moment that perhaps the comment would not be appreciated. However little the two mares have spoken, Scorch knew Dorne’s mother, Lyric. Though the two had never truly been on friendly terms, and in fact had battled on many occasions, Scorch held her in high respect, and Dorne, too.
Her lips part in the slightest to speak just as Dorne suddenly confesses her pregnancy. Closing her mouth with a click of her sharp teeth, Scorch perks her large, hairless ears, attentive to the Percheron. A mask of collectedness remains on her face throughout the mare’s spiel, but at its end – the end containing two whole new lives – Scorch allows a smile to conquer her hard, warrioresque features.
”You are welcome to burrow in the Jungle. We’re very accommodating, especially to women.” She dips her head. ”Please, make yourself at home.” Straightening, her child suddenly kicks – on both sides of her body. Flinching slightly, Scorch twists her neck to stare in horror at her suddenly ginormous-seeming stomach. Attempting to keep her groan internal – and only partially succeeding – Scorch straightens and squeezes her eyes shut. If she’d had hands, they would be rubbing her temples and forehead.
”Well, Gods be damned, I’m having twins too.” Gritting her teeth, she opens her eyes, suddenly seeking solace from Dorne. ”Looks like we’re going to be trudging through this hell together.”
![[Image: scorch2.png]](https://66.media.tumblr.com/d3f8827d56fd033f445fc5aa8055947a/3778d5ee43303690-eb/s1280x1920/532e323d08dfe066db7c4d27a9277d571bf7cdb2.jpg)