She has spent many days this autumn traversing between Nerine and Taiga.
Aten’s absence had been noticeable from the start and the Taigan mare had been worried. It wasn’t like him to be away from the Redwoods - in Lilliana’s mind, the champagne stallion was as much as part of the forest as the forest was of him. Her world has always been one of change and upheaval. The Protector is one of the few constants she allows herself; she trusts that Aten will always be in these woods.
And when she hadn’t found him, fear had crept into her mind. With everything that had happened of late, she had worried that Aten had somehow found himself amidst all the turmoil. If their Protector - her friend - was injured, what was in store for the rest of them while dragons rampaged and cursed creatures roamed the land of the sunrise?
Lilliana tries to do what she can for Taiga. When his scent had grown faint and it had become harder to track him or Lethia down, Lilli had taken to patrolling the northern border. (What exactly she could have done if she had encountered trouble, she doesn’t know. As the last of autumn is fading away, her sides have swollen visibly with her pregnancy and so with it goes the last of her familiarity with herself.)
There isn’t a word to describe the relief she feels when on one of these patrols, she hears him. Aten calls from a central point in Taiga that Lilliana knows - the open Meadow where Lepis had once ceded leadership to Pteron - and the copper mare strides as quickly as she can with an ungainly body. As she steps from the treeline, she feels a burden lifting off her slender shoulders and the expression on her face is an open and honest one: she is glad and comforted at the sight of him.
She stands not far from Pteron and pricks her ears forward, listening to what the golden stallion has to say.
More change is coming to the Northern Forest. Pteron stepping down and Aten resuming his former role of leader. Lilliana blinks at that and casts a quiet glance towards the blue-haired stallion. Her attention returns to the Taigan leader as he continues to speak and then back to the pegasus stallion as he shares his part - Pangea rising in the East, Castile succumbing to a dragon body and at the mention of Wolfbane, she stiffens.
There are some things best said in private. Perhaps what she has to add contains some of those things but as she stands with Aten and Lethia and their family, with Ruth and Pteron, they are the closest relationships she has to family. Many of them have known her since her arrival in the Redwoods almost five years prior. And it is with that thought that she adds, "We have the Pangean heir in custody..,” (the ‘we’ being Nerine and Taiga), "hopefully that should alleviate some of the steals in the interim.” It hadn’t all been Ghaul though - there are rumors of a red-eyed stallion sneaking horses away in the night. Lilliana had hoped that the steal of the Pangean prince might incline the East to release Brine and Brinly but like so many of her plans, this one has gone astray.
And then she looks to Ruth, remembering the last time they had seen Wolfbane. A cursed creature. A violent creature, his son says. For a moment, she considers adding to what Pteron has spoken.
It’s all ash on her tongue. What she wants to say is burned away by her shame and she has to look away from the golden girl. "Last I had heard,” comes her soft reply, "Wolfbane had stolen the leader of Icicle Isle.” She had tried to help Jesper too - someone else she had failed. "Aten,” she tries, "for the changes that are coming, that could come here, Pteron is right. We are unprepared. Our numbers are small and even with Craft and Anatomy…,” even with the two magical mares, their numbers and resources are limited.
"We either need to make a plan or-,” Or what, Lilli? It suddenly feels as if Beqanna’s borders encroach on all of them and yet doesn’t exist at all. Their densely wooded home could be completely overlooked or razed to the ground and as always, Lilliana hates the uncertainty.
LILLIANA
and its harder than you think
telling dreams from one another |
art by the day of shadow
but it's all in the past, love
it's all gone with the wind
|
