What followed were long, bated moments of anticipation. Ashamin stood still, focusing on his breathing, the sounds of his own heartbeat, the cold of the air, the dark of the night, the beat of his heart, his heart, his grieving, hopeful heart. He felt himself sink into the earth slowly, as if years, decades, no, centuries, were passing and the glaciers were shifting. Ice seemed to melt and rebuild, to rise around him, creating great towers of cold, bannered by buffets of wind and trapping his hocks, freezing his bones, chilling his blood, slowing his heart, his heart, his aching, waiting heart.

Ashamin imagined eternities. He looked up to the sentinels and imagined becoming a statue beside them--diminished in size, incomparable to their greatness, paling in their great shadows and serving only as a useless, frozen guard.

Would he be here forever, on the border, trapped between being something and being completely, utterly, recklessly and painfully alone? Distracted, overblown poesy overtook the young stallion's thoughts. He wasn't aware of the fact that he was shaking, didn't know that his ears had locked and blocked out all sound in favor of focusing on the pumping of his own blood, until Rexanna's nose pressed into the deep hollow of his own, cold black neck.

The touch startled him from his complex reverie: his collection of anxieties and dreams. He noticed that he was shivering; he jolted back, taking time to adjust and slowly return Rexanna's comforting gesture with a touch of his nose to hers. He was perhaps faintly aware that she had said one, maybe two things before, but had no intimation as to what they were. And then, as he felt her touch, he heard her speak the words he had been so scared he might never hear.

And though he wanted to thank her, embrace her for her generosity and kindness, his excitement was incredibly short lived. Rexanna was new here. Was she able to make such statements? Was he really out of those threshold woods and into a home, yet, or would his wanderings continue on?

Ashamin watched Rexanna's gaze travel to Lena. It was she, the elder, more experienced mare, that he watched now. She was the one to decide his fate. Ashamin turned to look at Rexanna, even if she wasn't looking at him--even if she'd never look at him again. He lifted his long tail, moving it towards her, feeling for a grip, letting it maybe tangle in the tresses she bore at her back. Was there any way he could tell her of how thankful he was for her gentle acceptance, even if it decided nothing in the end?

Ashamin knew he was fortunate to have encountered two such mares as these. And when Lena did at last respond, and breath expelled itself from where it had been caught tightly in Ashamin's chest, there seemingly strangling his heart with the pressure of his own lungs, relief was had. Ashamin dipped his countenance, his ears flickering forward in a visual, submissive thanks, and murmured the same aloud. "Thank you, both. I am honored," he remarked. Joy was trapped inside his body, wanting to flow out, wanting to flood the frozen plains of the Basin.

When Lena strode onward, Ashamin did not hesitate to dutifully follow. His tail trailed from where it had been, aiming to trace the line of Rexanna's hindquarters as an encouragement that she follow him closely. When Lena asked where to begin, suggesting a place that was as new to Ashamin as the rest of the Basin was, he barely knew how to respond. He cast a glance down at the kitsune, wishing she in her merry, magic ways could read his thoughts. He paused his walk, turning back to Rexanna and inviting her to strike her flank against his, hoping she'd have the authority left in her to say something to Lena.

He stood waiting, relieved yet overwhelmed, and looked back at the border over which he had crossed into his new home.

[[Tagged: @[Lena], @[Rexanna], anyone else who wishes to join.]]

Ashamin