It’s like watching a ghost of the past, a wavering image that pulses and writhes beneath my careful stare, before I realize it is merely the water casting its reflection across the stallion’s hide. There is only the light from above to see him by and his features are somewhat blurred by the lapping of the tide and the slanting of its translucent glow. Yet, I am contented by the vision and am somehow calmed by the moving of the shadows across the pool while I watch it gather and recede against the muscles of his chest. I study the scarring there and dream of the hell that marred a canvas perhaps once crafted in perfection. When I can no longer imagine a world of war and disaster, I move upward toward the ridge of his nose and the soft sloping of his face. I cannot tell if what I see in his eyes is wisdom or deflection and though I am tempted to speak, to say anything that might keep me from watching him any longer, I do not.
Instead I turn my pale gaze to the retriever as she begins paddling toward her presumed master. It lingers there until she arrives at his side, the stallion welcoming her with the dipping of his nose and the inhaling of her scent. It is a surprisingly intimate display that catches me off guard and I sigh –a gentle sound that is overpowered by the rushing of the waterfall— before turning to seek out Romul. The wolf is ready and waiting for my signal because he knows that what I decide will only impact his reaction to the pair, but I blow softly against his ear and he relaxes. There is certainly something magical about the love and companionship of a bonded animal… but it is only intensified by the feeling of longing and need for that creature. It is an addiction that cannot be satiated.
As I turn back again to find the great stallion still wading against the tide, I notice that his lips are moving –low and soft— perhaps entreating the retriever. The dog responds in kind with an almost characteristic smile or an understanding that far exceeds my own. They are unified by their bond, an old duo that has long since become one, and I am inspired by their closeness even if I am still unsure of their company.
When the stallion finally lifts his eyes to my own, I am struck by their deep blue once more. The distance between us does not allow me a close read, but I can see in their corners a weariness not matched in his body. For all that I know of the man, age is not something I assume him a weakness… but there is something- something untold or something that I cannot grasp in merely looking at him that simply exists in those smiling eyes. They are warm, as if friendly, but distant as if seasoned. Perhaps he has travelled a great deal in his lifetime or perhaps he is merely a quick study of the world, but I am suddenly curious to know who he is.
When he speaks, his voice reverberates across the water in waves, though his response is not entirely unexpected. I smile at his sentiment and glance down toward the retriever of which he speaks. Even as I nod in agreement at the stallion’s confession, I am again taken with the concept of their closeness. “She is beautiful,” I concede on a breath. Again the dog captures her companion’s attention and I watch as she grapples at his neck and mane, finding purchase so that she might drape herself across his wide back. I chuckle at the sight and shuffle forward a step, almost hoping to mimic the action with Romul. But I stop. I don’t want to lose myself to whatever fantasies I’ve conjured in my head… I am not a mare so easily accepting of strangers.
Romul grumbles slightly at my hesitance, or perhaps only because he is impatient, but I urge him on after sensing his desire to return to the water. I watch him go, a creature too comfortable in his own skin, and nod when the stallion inquires about our own bond. “Indeed he is… I found him as a filly and we’ve grown up together,” I answer dreamily. Romul is more than my companion in many ways because he has adopted many roles throughout my life. He has played playmate and guardian, confidante and advisor… He is everything I was denied at so young an age. “Thank you, but I’ve always believed him to be… invincible,” I state with a half-smile while staring out at the wolf as he again bites and paws against the surf. “He wouldn’t approve of anything less,” I improvise playfully.
On a whim I turn toward the stallion, whose name I don’t know, and think about how we’ve come to be here together. There is a certain bliss in his company that I have yet to witness anywhere else and for a moment I think to question his presence before deeming it altogether unimportant. Instead I forget my fears and press forward into the pool until it laps against my shoulders, the cool pressure of it slowing my heartbeat. My nerves are still electric and the creep of a hot blush makes my neck warm, but I am somehow content with the feeling and the unknowing. I don’t want to be anywhere anymore or do anything anymore… I just simply want to be. |
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