"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
Everything is crashing down. All that she had known, loved, trusted, is slipping through her fingers the longer she stands here with him. Once, long ago, they had been inseparable and it had only been them. She turned her back on Magnus because Dovev had promised to never leave her. She refused Tephra as a home because she saw the way Dovev’s eyes darkened when he thought of there every being anyone crowding the space between them. Even as mother and son, they only wanted each other; they could only trust each other. For the first time, Cerva was discovering true happiness. Maybe she should have known that it wouldn’t last. Nothing ever does, does it? She should have prepared herself, but she had been so engrossed in the laughter and the soft touches that she forgot all the woes in her life.
Dovev made her forget her sorrows.
But now, now he is bringing them all back. His grating voice, his urgency and worry, swallows her. A black cloud looms over her thoughts and while she is listening to him, she stares off distantly. Atrani is nearby, but even the child’s voice goes unanswered by both parents. The girl tilts her head from one side to the other, hunting for the replies that never come. Father more or less addresses them to mother, reassuring her and putting her fears aside. There is conflict in every direction – shouting, crying, wailing, reminding.
Reminding, yes.
Cerva’s nutmeg eyes lift to Zoryn as he interjects with barbed words. There is hurt and there is betrayal. A shudder cartwheels down her back, uncertainty slipping through the holes. Dovev has had his hands not only on her, but another mare, and even Zoryn. His affections roam as freely as the wind, untamed even by a love he claimed could never be replaced. Cerva had been his first, but not his only or his last. Everything is crumbling and all she can do is whimper and tremble under their hardened stares. She is not strong enough for this, not willing enough to endure more heartache and more pain. While her mind is battling to stay alive and to stay standing, her heart is wanting to resign and let her slip into the nothingness where she belongs. A bleary-eyed stare finds Dovev and they meet again as her strength withers and the blood drains. She slowly shakes her head, her matted forelock clumped and mingled with dirt. ”I wish you didn’t remember me,” she whispers on a shaken breath, ”not like this.” There is defeat choking her words. A dragged glance observes where Zoryn has left after he gave a pointed glance in her direction, knowing how she is tearing apart before their very eyes. ”He didn’t just attack you,” the pieces are coming together, one by one, ”There was something between you. Something deeper and more intimate that he wanted to remind you of by bringing you here.” A smile weakly tries to navigate across her lips. ”I cannot expect to keep you to myself.” She had once before, but not now, not when the truth is finally coming to fruition in front of her.
When Dovev reaches to her neck and breathes her in, she lets him. A lasting moment that she brings herself to savor even as her legs are painted a deep shade of scarlet. ”Dovev,” she breathes his name softly into the wind as she turns to glide her muzzle along the ridges of his neck and shoulder, ”I love you.” and I always have, she doesn’t say. Just as she sees the turmoil that has become of them, she also remembers those cold nights huddled together and those sweet touches every few steps they traveled. She remembers his youth and how he wanted – needed – her close, and she remembers when there was something deeper blossoming between them. She remembers their smiles, their laughter, their happiness.
With her white-bark lips still pressed to his skin, she whispers, ”But I cannot keep you forever.” That would be selfish, she tells herself as his breath fans across her as it had years ago. A tear slips down her cheek as she draws in the scent of him, memorizing him all over again. ”It has always been you,” she retorts, nearly repeating what he has said to her, but her heartache is sinking deeper and deeper to her core. ”You love her and you love him. Give them what they want; we had our time,” she doesn’t want to say goodbye, but its hovering on the tip of her tongue even with their daughter within earshot. Each passing minute her body is weakening and giving up. The blood is still there, freshly draping her hindquarters even as they stand in a lover’s embrace. She doesn’t want to let him go, but when she sees their daughter, she sees what meager purpose she had in this bitter world.
”Just let me go, Dovev.” A shaken breath rattles her lungs. ”Give them the chance to know your love.” Because she knows how great it can be.
His teeth grit and he wanted to growl as Zoryn reached for his child. His eyes flashed anger, and burned brighter still at the bastard baring his teeth at him in response to his silent command to leave. But of course he stayed, the defiant jerk. Fine, but don't touch her, his eyes warned.
He was grudgingly relieved that Zoryn came to his defense, confirming Cerva's importance, yet still it pissed him off. Why wouldn't he just leave and let Dov fix this mess? Zor's eyes trailed to Cerva's rear as he spoke again and the rage only roared hotter in him, his teeth bared openly in threat. Was he impying she wouldn't live? Stupid bastard, she was strong. It was just a birth, all mares did it. Then their eyes met again and Zoryn swore they would reunite, whether he came on his own or had to be hunted down again. Dovev only snarled in silence, and let him pass unharmed. For now.
"I wish you didn't remember me."
Her words wounded him and his gaze jerked back to her in pained shock. She couldn't mean it. "Not like this," she added. It didn't help, it still crushed him. She spoke of Zor and he shook his head, denying what she thought she knew. "I cannot expect to keep you to myself."
Of course you can! Of course you will. You can't think I am unfaithful, Cerva. You know me better than that. You should know there is only you for me. Why won't you accept that?
She said his name as he reached for her, her soft muzzle brushing across him in return. His breath hitched and his coat shuddered under her touch. I love you, she said softly. He exhaled slowly into her neck, a faint smile finally pulling at his lips. His shuttered eyes moistened in joy and he kissed her nape sweetly. Finally, they could be happy again. She loved him still, somehow she loved him still. She would stay. They would raise their daughter together, as it should be. They'd be a family. He'd always keep them safe and happy. He would always be there. Always.
"But I cannot keep you forever."
He stiffened, his throat closing tight. No, she couldn't be doing this. His head shook, his body trembled. A tear fell as he pulled back to see her better, eyes wide in heartbreak and disbelief. "You love her and you love him.. we had our time." He choked back a sob, crying openly now. God, his throat hurt. His head shook more, his legs quaking.
No, Cerva, don't do this. Don't leave me. If you love me, you won't leave. She needs you, I need you. Don't leave us. Please..
"Just let me go, Dovev. Give them the chance to know your love." His head still shook and he buried a cry into her neck, pressing his chest to hers. No, he choked, don't let me go. You are everything, I need you. His sides pulsed in a smothered sob, tears soaking her perfect coat.
I'll do anything you want. I'll make you happy, I swear. Just don't leave..
The way he looks at her – pain pouring from his eyes – stabs so deeply into her heart that she is forced to look away. Even as the words swirl in her mind Cerva realizes how much it’s going to hurt him – them – but there is nothing more that can bring her lower than she already is. Her life has brimmed with abandonment, with loneliness, and with heartache. She wasn’t good enough. She wouldn’t amount to anything. She didn’t have a purpose.
But she did!
For a fleeting second Cerva forgets about the innocent child standing off to the side, turning her head in every direction to hear her parents. With a trembling heart and a weakening soul Cerva slips toward Atrani and croons to her in a most gentle tone. ”Tephra,” she whispers almost inaudibly for no one to hear but their sightless child. She pulls away then, slowly, and returns her softened gaze to Dovev as he fights for her will, refusing to let her give up on herself, on them, on their family. The warm, spring breeze cusps her battered body so gingerly that she hardly notices its passing. Her mind, heart, and soul are swirling in tangent with Dovev, wanting – needing – him, but also just barely letting go of him, too. ”I did accept it,” she murmurs, choking on the memories, ”and I savored being the only one for you. That gave me life; that gave me hope.” Oh, how he would cradle her cheek and curl into her side, both as a young boy and an adult. It had been dream-like and she wondered how long it would be until she awakened.
She blinks.
The kiss that he trails on her neck leaves behind a blossoming electricity that spreads into her veins and through her entire body. It brings her back to before their daughter, before the pregnancy, before his abandonment. Even as she is falling into pieces, a smile tilts her velvet lips. He has always known how to make her smile, envelope her in adoration, but that was before everything came crashing down.
”Dovev,” she enjoys saying his name despite what has happened these past months because it was all she had known for these years. She knew him, said only his name, melted into only his touch. ”Can you take our daughter out of the meadow? I don’t want her here,” because this is where it all began and ended. The meadow is a place of pain and loss. What begins as emphatic joy shatters into shards of glass here. A smile slips across her lips as she tries desperately to mask the pain that is ripping through her insides. ”I want to regain my strength,” she lies convincingly behind a loving stare that dances between him and Atrani, ”but I will catch up with you.” Again, another lie.
”My happiness is right in front of us,” she tries to direct him to their daughter, to look at her even as she cannot look back at them. The loving croon from mother to daughter is lasting and honeyed with affection. Even with the rage that had exploded around them earlier, even with the deceit and heartache, Cerva still looks fondly at the small child. ”It’s us,” Cerva whispers to Dovev, implying the beautiful foal they’ve made together, and with a sideways glance, she reiterates herself, ”Take us out of the meadow, away from here.” Intending for only he and Atrani to leave, to abandon her for the final time. ”Let me rest.”
She softened, melted into his touch as she used to. It fueled him for more, as it always had. His heart filled with hope as he pressed against her more firmly. "Dovev," she said softly, the same angel's voice he'd always known. His pulse quickened, but she spoke again before he could shower her with more affection. "Can you take our daughter out of the meadow? I don't want her here." He froze, holding his breath. What was this? "I want to regain my strength, but I will catch up with you."
He pulled back carefully, diving deep into her soft eyes. It sounded right, but felt wrong. His blood chilled, uncertain. Leave her behind? For how long? What was wrong with the meadow? He didn't ask, tried to find the answers for himself in her gaze, but it turned to their daughter, and with her voice his followed. "My happiness is right in front of us."
Her maternal noises and sweet affection for Atrani released some of the tension in him. She loved her, she wouldn't leave them. She'd find them, catch up like she'd said. Cerva had never lied to him before, never. He was a fool to doubt her even for a second. She had always been so impossibly perfect. An angel. His mare, his Cerva. "It's us," she whispered, and he swallowed his lingering doubts. Unfounded doubts. Black velvet brushed gently against the lovely red-gold of her cheek, his heart in his eyes. "Take us out of the meadow, away from here. Let me rest."
He shoved down the pain in his heart, not understanding why this hurt so badly. He would see her again, she said so. She was coming too. They would be a family, raise their daughter together. Just as she had always wanted. So he put his trust in her, his faith in her, and ignored the prickling needles pinning slowly into his heart. He kissed her temple gently, closing his eyes and pulling in her fragrance that was so warm and soft, like her. As you wish, Cerva, he murmured quietly, sadly. Because this still felt wrong, to leave her again.
He stepped away to retrieve their daughter, suddenly unable to look at Cerva, unable to meet those perfect eyes. Unwilling to find a fault in them, when his heart whispered there would be.
Atrani, he whispered into her little crest, savoring the name on his tongue, the name her mother gave her. He kissed her poll, just behind her right ear. His little Cerva. He trailed his lips down her inverted blaze, placing another light kiss on her small nose and swaddling her in his scent. Come with me, my heart.I will keep you safe. Just as I was trained to.
His heart cracked more with each careful step they took away from Cerva. But he never turned back. Something told him not to.
She would never lie. His Cerva was perfect.
She always would be.
It hurts to lie to him. The treachery of it is ripping her, destroying her, but she hides it well behind her smiles and loving eyes. Each time her mask cracks, Cerva glances to their unseeing daughter until she is composed enough to look him in the eyes again. She hopes he doesn’t notice this or how her eyes occasionally dull with the knowledge of what she’s doing. This is difficult. Everything she has invested her heart into is slipping through her fingers, but it’s no longer against her will. This time, it’s her own choosing, but that doesn’t spare her the pain and agony.
Stay strong, she tells herself as her smile wavers.
Atrani tilts her head up to blindly search for her mother only to weakly ask, ”Why, momma?” Is this because father abandoned Cerva? Is she being punished for what father had done? Is this her fault?
Accusatory knives stab through her, and she hesitates when mother dismisses the two of them. This is wrong, but what are they to do? Reaching out, she finds father’s shoulder and nibbles his coat in confusion. She can’t do anything. She can’t look into mother’s face or search for her answers in Cerva’s gaze. There is no other option except to obey father’s nudges and caresses. He guides her a few steps away, obliging Cerva in a most unhappy way. He mirrors the heartache and uncertainty that is treading through Atrani’s thoughts, but nonetheless, he agrees to mother’s wishes. There is a soft touch (she feels him lean into Cerva) and a reluctant withdrawal, then there is a loving kiss placed on the arch of her neck. The small child tries to smile through the panic, tries to savor this adoration, but it ends quickly leaving the spot on her neck iced over.
Cerva clutches desperately to these moments even as her vision phases in and out, even as the strength in her body ebbs. The tears brim her eyes, but she never lets them fall; she refuses to let them know that this is goodbye and not see you later. She wants them to believe that she still has vigor.
She wants to leave them with a sense of hope.
They don’t realize the battle raging inside her heart, mind, and soul. They – Dovev, really – only sees the false smiles and the glances of a lover. He doesn’t know how her mind is closing to the world, how the blood is still draining relentlessly from her.
She won’t let them know.
When they leave, Atrani pressed blindly to her father’s shoulder, Cerva watches. What remains left of her leaves the meadow with them. Her legacy, her love, her memories, are leaving her here in the meadow. They think she will find them. They don’t realize the finality of the moment.
Patiently, Cerva watches as their bodies disappear into the distance. Atrani glances back one last time and Cerva wishes the girl could see the way their eyes would have met, how their love for each other would have blossomed with that final look. A feeble smile quivers across her lips. ”Goodbye, my loves,” she whispers into the warm breeze before finally turning away from them. She walks toward the trees, but doesn’t stop there. She forces her legs to move for as long as she can until she passes a threshold where the pain subsides and where her heartbreak is mended. There is a lightness in her step again, a sense of youth in her nutmeg eyes. Oddly enough, she is not with Dovev and Atrani and yet she is, somehow. She can feel her heartbeat thrumming inside the small child. Her memory and love wrapping around Dovev’s mind.
Cerva doesn’t question where she is, or how she got here, or if she will ever awaken. She simply lets it be, smiling as the sun kisses her skin.
