when i run through the deep dark forest long after this has begun,
The wolf-woman falls easily into a pattern of silence beside Mazikeen. Prior to this, the once younger version of herself played privy to a pirate lord, back when Loess and its rag-tag band of misfits ruled and profited. It had been the last time she had felt at home and as she strides in silence casually besides the large tiger, she felt herself falling back into that same familiarity - a home and a family surrounds her once again. As a wolf and as a mare, the thought is comforting.
“Nowhere is good,” Dayé states simply. Part of her is glad that she had a home as a filly, but her father was bold and brash and was killed sooner than his age would have taken him, and her mother disappearing once his iron fist no longer kept her bound. Her half-brother, Wolfbane, had been her saving grace in those tumultuous times - she was young and easily swayed; she wonders now what would have happened had he not nudged her in the right direction. But even their relationship deteriorated in time - he strived for bigger, more gallant things while Dayé only wished a life of simplicity. These differences allowed her to part ways peacefully, where she had met Sochi and led her to where she is now - Hyaline, with a different tigress by her side.
She grins mischievously to herself, finding it funny how things tend to repeat themselves.
Dayé’s inquisitive brows rise on her rose-colored face, huffing gently. “That doesn’t surprise me at all,” she comments with a chuckle, not finding it uncanny in the least bit that a snow leopard and a lioness as a mother will create the two creatures that stand together now. The wolf’s large, triangular ears flip back casually, hinting at the distaste of Mazikeen’s confession. “Never feel guilty doing what is best for you.” There is no gesture with the words, but they are final and poignant - enough so that Dayé would be surprised if her friend questioned her about it.
They’ve come to the lake at the epicenter of Hyaline, halting squarely together on the softly-lapped shoreline. The water is still and unwavering, and for a moment the wolf fancies herself a swim. But the next question that Mazikeen asks throws her off. There is a bark in her throat, haughty and unfiltered, as she gently shakes her head. “No, I haven’t gotten around to that.” Her coffee-brown eyes roll playfully. “I’m entirely too busy taking care of you.”
Dayé
where the sun would set, trees are dead, and the rivers were none.
@[Mazikeen]