Or so I told myself.
The truth was, I was not near as distant as I wished to be. There had been others, like Althea, who came close to meaning – when I knew very well where my meaning was. Part of me expected her to be no different – just out to save Aleksandr Zavulonovich, the sorry bastard who had no life or independent thought of his own.
I had no doubts I was a bastard, in every sense of the word. I was also sure I needed no saving.
Alysanne was a lot like my brother, perhaps why I… cared.
To want does not equal to need.
“Not long,” I told her, because it was true, “I am well, as well as can be,” and this too was true – I could say I was better now she was here with me, and were I someone else, some random charmer, I might. I would also be lying, not that I did not appreciate (and care) for her.
I have no doubt she had several such charmers crawling out of the woodwork, out to catch her; it was the way of mares and stallions. That she chose me was – remarkable. Absurd, too.
There were very few things about her that weren’t remarkable, though.
“What about you? How come you found this place? Where’s your sister?”
We’d left before it ended – before everything went belly up – and whatever fates smiled down on her survival, I was entirely too glad she was here.
I did not tell her as much; but my shoulder brushed hers, nose to her mane, and I hoped that was enough.