Come what may.

Certainly. Indeed. Come what may. That was suddenly her mother’s mantra, her tie to sanity, her prayer to the Gods that existed only within her heart… and still just a string of words that did little to spare her the pain of pressing a second child past her hips. The glory had come and gone with her brother and Gyda was something of a surprise- the kind that took one by the throat and made them gasp for the air to survive. It was something of a telling tale, the perfect beginning to a life unplanned and unforeseen… Whatever foreign power that granted the filly a single chance at life had certainly been looking down upon her that day.

Come what may.

Was she a may –the may–  that would forever haunt the lives of those who clung so vigilantly to their perfections and absolute belonging? It took Gyda so long to reach toward mere life, her eyes falling slack against the ground that had greeted her so softly, before she realized that she had in fact been given said life. After such realization came euphoria, or some vague semblance of the word, and then a groaning desire for warmth and comfort. Gyda was not as nimble as her brother nor was she as fit for the life she’d been given, but she worked toward that all-encompassing rite of passage. At first it was simple and true, the very basic idea behind living and breathing, but shortly after, the filly was determined to find her way toward her mother’s lips, her eyes. They were, after all, and enchanting pale white…. bottomless and unfeeling as they appeared.

However, the filly’ attempts were stunted by that of another, a scent and a body too familiar to her new and curious senses. He was safe and well-known to her, a force that wrecked her soul into abandoning her searching to press a willing nose against dampened skin.

Amalrik.

Not that Gyda knew of any such entitlement as of yet. The colt was simply another being that appeared more of an extension of the filly herself. She snorted and chirped, the sounds alarming in their solidarity, before finally pushing onto unstable limbs that wouldn’t quite keep her afloat. There was another creature, a large and looming menace that only served to distract Gyda from her, (the soothing touch of her mother) and the filly was wary of its presence. She was curious then, her hazy eyes finding only darkness in their path as she searched for the solid warmth of the father she had yet to concretely understand. What was it? What drew Gyda to him and to her, her mother? It felt like something that held no name other than family and would forever concern the filly despite her inward desire to keep them all close.


Gyda