Chernobyl

Night was fading into darker night. The cold Steppe is starting to howl with a soft, but steady wind that whips through the conifers spread at the edges of the vast openness. When he leans his muzzle into her knot riddled, breathing onto her thick fur underneath the cloak of her twisted onyx hair; she closes her eyes and exhales with a hum of satisfaction. There was something raw, primal and soul nurturing about their visits with one another – all things Chernobyl had a hard time having faith in. She found any part of him she could with her prehensile lip, scratching him lovingly wherever she found a spot (most likely his neck or cheek).

The air sank at the mention of a next time, but the heaviness brought a smile to the black mare’s lips, kissing them against his muzzle with a nudge. “I will not be leaving again, Murdock – even if I were to, I’ll never be gone forever…even in death.” She whispers quietly to him, her lips still toying gently with his own lips and muzzle. He didn’t have to say aloud what was going through his mind; she did not need any magic to read him… He fidgets at the very thought of a goodbye, even with his wandering spirit, he did not like to severe the image of her from his eyes. She relishes in his steadfast affection, as if when they are apart he is sick with wanting. She is in fact sick with missing him when they are apart, but it is easy for her to put away, to hide the feeling deep on a heart she doesn’t even want in the first place – unless Murdock is around, and then having such an organ is always such a good time. She has trouble fathoming that his feelings match with her own, despite him doing everything to show her that they do. Finally she seems to catch on, that same old warmth heating up a little more as it needles through her bloodstream. She pulls away from playing with her lips against his, adjusting her position under his blanketing wing. “You know I must be off soon.” She snuggles into him, rubbing her face into his neck and mane, as if she is about to take a nap. “The next full moon though, you’ll meet me by the Cave entrance…won’t you?” She touches him tenderly from his neck to his muzzle, nibbling and nuzzling along the way, “So I’ll see you very soon, my love.” She snuggles into him again, it is a silent ‘I love you’ before she pulls away like a ghost after his own sweet farewell.

They’ll be together soon, it is only a week or so before the moon will swell up with light once again.

I can't tell one from the other;
I find you, or you find me?