the

Mother of Companions

Ampere is so similarly focused on Tandavi that she doesn't notice the lack of the fox, Natraj, that was always with fire dancer. Companions were normally the first thing Ampere would always notice, and their names, if they were ever properly introduced, would linger must stronger in her memory than the calling of any horse. Ampere has been, distracted, in the past few years though, growing steadily more complacent compared to the mare Tandavi so strongly remembers up on the Veins.

The fire which had held Ampere's gaze had gone out though, and in the absence of its heat and its light, Ampere had only the cold and the dark to watch. It allowed old, wild things to get close again.
For now though, Ampere was still adjusting to the night, and Tandavi's was a flame that still burned bright.

Ampere's hopeful query is pierced by the simple word, no. Ampere's features falter faintly, but soon enough her expression reforms with intrigue, wanting to know the purpose of Tandavi's presence then if not what she asked, and why she seemed so fidgety. Briefly Ampere wondered if she wanted to come back (it seemed hard for Tandavi to say no), but couldn't due to... an obligation? A tyranny? A new sand allergy?

The sound of her own name dispelled whatever imagination Ampere was running off with. Her gaze re-focused on Tandavi, intent to know as her old friend(?) continued to noticeably struggle. Ampere was about to crack a joke to lighten the mood, or demand the girl spit it out before they both turn gray, but then there it was- out just like a fresh foal, wet and ugly and exhausting.

Ampere could only blink, too stunned to do anything else.

Her mind is blank at first, but then suddenly, as she digests what was just said and the weight of that, her thoughts are careening out of control, wreaking havoc all within her. Ampere tenses, her body tugging in tighter to itself, though her hooves never lift. The lines of her face grow taut, and something in her eyes harden.

"What?" Is all she manages to say, to stutter, out of the plethora of shit buzzing on her mind and on her tongue.

She's surprised of course, shocked even, but there's also a certain calm to her that wouldn't exist if this - if this was the first she'd heard of it.
This was the first real proof she had, which was the reason for any of her response. For some time now she'd had her own suspicions now, and of course there was that snake-poison dream where a whale told her (what's not to believe there), so there'd been some gentle hints. Always though there was that lack of confirmation, that little wiggle of doubt. This however was something much more tangible, much more encompassing, taking up all the room where he doubt would normally sit.

"Are you certain?" she still asks, just to be sure, but even as the question leaves her mouth her body is softening, her heart is accepting.
"I was too," she finally says, gently, guiltily.

A pause, because Ampere wasn't trying to defend herself or seek forgiveness, just offering an explanation, and then she says "Thank you for ensuring she lived. Do you know who raised her?"

I've been trying to fix my pride
But that shit's broken