And maybe if he'd known this existed - this feeling - before now, things would be better for them both. Caneo didn't - can't change the long, shadowed road behind him any more than he can change the stars - but a part of him wants to live in this moment forever. He is bright and young and beautiful, untouched by doubt or the specter of fear. And he runs.

        The laughter in his eyes, too quiet and too private to be heard, sparkles brightly nonetheless. This body was made for movement, and he feels more a part of it now than he has in a long time, as if he was born to be this, only this. Tandavi takes after him, a brilliant flare of firelight beside the stark glow of his star-kissed skin, and they might be children again for all the world seeks to stop them. Caneo keeps one eye cocked back at her, gauging her speed and checking his own to keep pace. The brief, terrible moment where he wondered if she might follow at all drops behind him, left for dead. Now she snaps at his tail and he whisks it away, his hooves kicking up well away from her face, his cloven hooves tearing up clods of dead grass. If this is living, living isn't so bad. If this is joy, he wants to see it in her every day. But these are quick thoughts passing like clouds overhead, unexamined by the silver creature as he moves.

        Something bright glints in the distance; Caneo's stride slows and then stretches out, and for a frightening smatter of heart beats he moves as it to clear it. But then the water thunders up and he checks momentum violently, his tail lashing and his haunches coiling up. Flecks of dirt and bits of grass toss into the water before him and he rolls to one side, half rearing, before he circles around completely and halts, at last. Joyful shudders race along his sides as his lungs heave for breath, drinking in the crisp air with the satisfaction of one who too rarely expresses anything now reveling in joy. His gaze is bright and slightly unfocused when it finds Tandavi again, though he quiets by degrees when he notes the change in her features. She hasn't dimmed like before; a suggestion of the dimness hangs around her edges (like a threat). Concern plunges everything else back into darkness and, tail flicking, Caneo steps forward. He won't stand as close as he did before - touch remains an elusive thing, precious in its rarity - but he will stand beside her.

        As if he can be a guard against despair.

        He says nothing in response to her just yet. Blue eyes drink in her face and the way it changes in laughter. Ears cup forward to catch the noise and his own features soften just a little, though he's closing up again, sacrificing motion for the sake of privacy. “Are you happy now?” he wonders. He never asked enough about her, content to ferment in his own misery, his own mystery. He feels he ought to touch her though not in the physical way; to be for her as she was, once, for him. “I am,” Caneo allows, more quietly. His voice is soft; it feels like a secret, though he isn't sure why. As if to draw attention from it, he scans the meadow around them and adds, pure curiosity, “Where is Natraj today?”