”Sometimes I still hear them.” I nodded; the memory of darkness swam sick in my blood, in the back of my mind. But it could only linger more severely for her – she had fought them. I blinked at her in silence, unable to dredge up comfort when I myself had found none. ”They are gone,” I murmured. My gaze grew distant, peering into some other time. ”But they will always remain. It happens that way, with trauma…” In the past, I had so often shied from the word – from admitting my own suffering. Perhaps old age rendered me honest. Perhaps Evangeline did. I sighed, in that moment aware of the weight in my own skeleton, my own tired form.

     She spoke again; my ears twitched to catch the words, gentle as they were – yet nearly a rebuke. Amusement, wry and sour, twisted at the despair wriggling through my thoughts. Faith. I snorted a small, sardonic laugh. ”I am here.” For whatever I was worth; I shook my mane out, came forward a small step. I will be here, I thought, all the same. I won’t leave you again. Though I wished, at the same time, I had more to offer – some advice, perhaps. But I had even less than faith.

     My expression – twisted with wry amusement – fell flat with an alarmed snort in response to her next word. Love. Strange that anything should ever love me – I who, had so rarely confessed the sin, myself. What good did it do, for anyone? I blinked at her. Yes, comforted by the depth of her affect, but – my ears twitched back, only for a moment. Love. I stared at the receding fog as she spoke of Validino – I spent a long moment remembering the name. Then with a jerk my head lifted up, the darker eye cast toward her in brief, violent indignation.

     ”The same who stole you from the Woodlands?” And, in doing so, precipitated our first meeting – but that mattered nothing, when I so disdained the creature in the first place. Some brutal strength of conscience seized me, though, and I bit my tongue from further blackening the creature’s name. Perhaps there had been some good in him – no, Evangeline had seen some good in him – as, it seemed, she had a way of seeing good where there was none. I found my stature drawn tall, rangy and skeletal though I was. Her next words worked a long moment at penetrating my brain, but in doing so at least distracted me – twins? I let my head down, dismissing old injustice. ”They would return to you, if they wished to.” I had no counsel to offer in such a vein; my own children were lifetimes ago, likely left to die in the mud with everyone else. I could not recall their names – had I ever known. ”But it is not your duty to keep them. Let them have their lives…” I sighed. For what it is worth. ”I would like to see them, though. And Validino…” Hard though the word grated off my tongue – and he, gone, too? I was not necessarily vindictive, but I felt a bitter anger in the back of my mind. ”Perhaps it is better that way,” I muttered at last, mostly to myself. ”Let those who go, go. And those who come back…” Another sigh; restless. My thoughts tangled: shadows and old names, and new troubles. I was getting to old for all of this.

     At least news of the herd might become objective: something I received without concern. I nodded as she spoke of Kaj – so at least I had a name. ”I’m glad,” I muttered, absently. Imagining Kahlua disposed toward indignation in the face of my kind was a… disturbing thought. And why? I barely knew her; she owed me nothing. I shook my head. ”A pity to see racism extends to these lands, as well.” I nodded as she listed off names – most unfamiliar to me. And recounted having missed Roanne. ”Perhaps he is dead, then.” I said the word without much feeling, tail twitching away at my hocks. Despite the previous guilt, despite everything… Did I even continue to care? ”Unnerving,” I grunted at last. ”Everything we worked for, rendered to ash. How many times can one begin anew?” A question for the gods; I had no answer, though life seemed committed to pulling one from me.