As the sensation began, I almost recoiled into myself, folded up and locked away all that I held dear. But it was a gentle, subtle touch, one that stroked in just the right way, and I found myself relaxing to it, welcoming it. It was a torrent that flowed through me then, as I simply revelled in the touch of another's soul upon my own fractured one. It wasn't the same as you, nothing ever would be, but it was familiar, comforting, foreign and yet I found myself wanting to hold onto it forever. Tears burned behind my eyes as I relived all that she saw, though they seemed to dry up once the dragoness withdrew her mystical touch. Fajira, the stallion said, though I could tell it was the dragon who truly spoke. My smile grew deeper as I nodded farewell to her embrace, and I hoped she could read the mixture of strange gratitude and loss that was tumbling through me.

The stallion's reaction to my words amused me. My mouth quirked into a kind smirk, one that held no maliciousness or ill-intent, one that simply conveyed the pleasure it was to be in the company of stallion who was easy to be around - one who knew the boundaries, and respected them, one who seemed to be genuinely good and honest. At least, that was her initial impression, one which he seemed to be holding up as the night wore on. He could have done any number of things to her while she slept off her fever, before Tandavi arrived, and he chose to protect her, to warm her with his own personal Sun, to ensure no harm came to her while she laid prone upon the forest floor.

"Your mate must be very tolerant of all the damsels throwing themselves at you," I spoke quietly, coming to the only logical conclusion I could. Surely a steed as mature and fine as he would be claimed already, surely his heart was governed by another, and that explained why he was so cordial, so generous with his kindness. He was one of those rare stallions, who, after growing through their adolescence and treating anything female like a sex toy, were finally caught and tamed by a single powerful woman, and because eternally unavailable thereafter to all who would think he would protect their hearts and theirs alone. Perhaps I was wrong, but it mattered little either way - he was unavailable to me as any of them were.

"I usually pick better trees," I added, catching the meaning of his glance at the shambles of timber that spread out before us. "But wounds left untreated fester," I spoke matter-of-factly, sadly, but also with a shrug as I wandered amongst the wreckage. "And sometimes, one willingly gives their mind up to the infection." Detached from the very words I was uttering, I lowered my crown and sniffed at the point where the branch broke from its trunk, reflected sadly on its similarity to the inner workings of my mind, my soul, very being.

the Wind Dancer