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Well, that was a mistake.
The minute the promise left my lips, I realized how moronic I had been. What in Earth's name did I think I was doing, promising a sweet and sad mare that I would stay with her? I, who was no doubt the least qualified stallion to put someone else at ease? I had my own problems- why did I feel this bothersome need to take on hers? Oh, I was an idiot to be sure, still too attached to youthful habits to think through my words before I spoke, but she was so soft, and shattered and sweet.
Just try and tell me you could have resisted that soft blue gaze.
The relief in her eyes was palpable, the innocence of her voice a dagger in my chest. Idiot, I quietly cursed, grateful for how little emotion my face betrayed. I hoped, then, that she would say more, although why I expected it is far beyond me. But I wished, and I waited for her voice to fall, for the outpouring of whatever troubled her into my patiently front-facing ears. Maybe once she got it off her chest, she would realize she was being silly, that it would all be okay, and that somewhere someone who loved her was waiting to stand by her side. (I had no doubt that somebody loved her, that some poor stallion was missing her desperately just then. Or mare. I wouldn't judge.)
But when the silence continued, I knew she was not prepared to speak. Instead she turned away from me, though the glare of the songbird did not cool, his beedy-eyed hatred clear on that smug face. I wanted to glower back at him - clearly I wasn't going to hurt his precious friend! - but the thought of her seeing me saved me that shame. The girl shifted slowly, her hips a smooth sway, and for an instant I thought she might just fly away. Perhaps she had thought better of keeping the company of Eribor, He Of His Own Problems, Grump Extraordinaire, but no, she did not fly away. She simply stared into the fire, the fire I hated and wished to leave behind.
More silence, more nothing; I grew anxious then, emerald hoof pawing distastefully at the ground. It was a bad habit, one my mother had tried to wean out of me, one which had grown worse in the time since her.... loss. Would Onni say anything? I was growing weary of standing near flame, uncomfortable with the memories it threatened to illuminate. Carefully I cleared my throat, staring to the west, away from the Heart. "Is there somewhere you wanted to go?" It seemed safe enough. Surely there was somewhere better for her than here. Back to the Throat and her family, for instance. Gruffly I continued, "I would take you. If you like." Because that doesn't sound dirty. I resisted the urge to cringe at myself.
"I find it often unwise to linger near fire," I added, trying to detract from the coltish thoughts frolicking like mayflies through my mind. I could only imagine what the songbird would do, if he knew of the way I'd (briefly!) considered his friend.
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