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She did not want to lie.
Tor's soft, lightly-furred ears twitched and shivered, catching the delicate crunch of small hooves under a dark body. Her dark, soft brown eyes, depthless and fathomless, filled with incomprehensible layers of guilt, joy, peace, and memories, caught the flicker of movement that announced Laila's presence. Laila was so much more in appearance like that of her father- albeit smaller. Dark, with an elegant face, so unlike Tor's plain, comely homeliness. Just a shadow against the falling night. Maternally, the white mare wished the filly would sleep at her hooves again, safe and sheltered; as a mare, and traitor, she vaguely wished her daughter had not come in the darkness of night. Each and every moment should be taken at face value- and Tor should certainly not feel uncomfortable, however slightly, around her own blood. Laila was the intricate product of her and Destrier's blood. In a way, she was the visual representation of what would certainly be deep and lasting, eternal care and the gentle caress. Neither of them lusted like a young stallion or curved-flanked mare. No, Tor was content to move at a steady pace, together.
"You should be in bed," Tor murmured, still staring out over the scarlet and black sea, the foaming white at a sharp contrast to the deep shadows and bleeding waters. Casually she turned her head, admiring the young filly's shape, slowly and steadily filling out from the sharp angles into the elegance of a model. Tor, even round-flanked and curved as she was, could not match the lushness of a young body, especially one not fully draft. Her daughter would fill out to be a beautiful mare, even more gorgeous than her, Tor was certain. Wasn't that what all mothers wanted for their daughters? Beauty, a good family... all of this the mother thought as she watched the rise and fall of Laila's chest, the deepness of her ebony coat, interrupted by just a touch of cream, sharp against the horizon line. Here the cliff jutted out over the sea, the shrine nearby, the wind humming as it leaped through the open tubes and thrumming a soft song as it hit dead ends. There were no trees to stop Tor was watching her daughter, casually but lovingly, for there was nothing but a deep, sensitive maternal feeling for her children. Once reunited, nothing would stop her from tearing the earth apart from finding them, a fact which Tor found ironic considering it was she who abandoned them.
Yet was her life not full of ironies?
As Laila posed a question, voice sharp and strong, cutting through the howling of the wind like a keen blade, Tor stared out over the surging sea, and instead she answered the question with one of her own. "Did you miss me?" A ghost of a whisper; if the wind had not been swirling towards Laila, perhaps it might be missed completely. For the white mare was curious, and afraid, of the answer. If Destrier had been a better father for them... what if they did not miss their mother? Tor paused, inhaling the tangy air sharp with the scent of salt. "I missed you every moment. Laila..." How did she explain the feelings within her, without over-complicating the issue? Maybe it was just intuition, or a mother's six sense, but she felt this answer needed to be good. It just shouted out it was important. "I will not send you chasing ghost answers. I went to see my brother, to the North, and to finish business with a mare I once called my closest friend." Her voice was surprisingly calm and steady, a deep, even tenor- it only shivered at the mention of Ophelia.
Tor turned her head back from watching the sea to laying her eyes on her daughter once more. "I regret both." Nanook had tried to lay claim to her, living in a world far from sexual equality. If not for her stubborn refusal to disappear from Destrier and the twins eternally, and for him owing her for being essentially his foster sister, he would not have let her leave. He would've barred her way with bared teeth and pinned ears, with a challenging squeal ensuing. Never would he believe that Tor, perhaps, had once fought. As foals they had played, but as adults, in that world far away, mares were expected to bear strong foals and do as the lead commands. Mares were respected, and always treated well, but still, they were made to defer to the stallions' authority. As for Ophelia... needless to say, the meeting had not gone well with any of them present. Still, she missed both of them, despite the harsh parting. Ophelia, less. No doubt that Tor weighed little on the mare's eidetic memory... but Nanook? She had lived with him for many years, bonded to him. After wishing for equality and returning to her mate, with him hardly respecting that, they had split. Nanook had sent a young bachelor even farther North to carry on the news of Tor to Whitewood and Blackfoot, yet nevertheless she would've wished to go all the way herself. But the trip was simply too long.
"I understand you may be feeling... regrets about my behavior. Shame, maybe. At the very least, I do not doubt you will be upset. I would as well. I will not judge you, my daughter. All I will say is that I will be working hard not to gain the trust of just you, but all of this herd in the future. My shoulders are burdened with my petty mistakes, and only when I show my loyalty and have it returned will the load lighten." Tor's gentle, serene voice held two notes; one of sincerity, and one of worry. She could not look at her daughter, for fear she would see a mistrustful stranger in place of the young filly who had turned yearling so much earlier than she would have ever realized.
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