I was panicking. What folly had prompted me to seek him out in the dead of night, in a land that I may not be welcome in? I would be chased out, or worse, wouldn't I? They would want to know why I had just barged in rather than waiting at the border. They would have questions. They would have demands. They would view my actions with suspicion. A cool breeze wafted through the trees; goosebumps raced in a wave across my skin, a shiver wracking my body, caused as much by my terror as by the chill. What was I going to do? Should I just leave? Of course I should. My pistons shuffled beneath me as I shifted back and forth, my confusion obvious in my motions, my anxiety rolling off me in waves.

A noise caught my attention, surely much louder in my overly sensitive auds than it had any right to be; I spun, my legs splaying in what was surely a comical manner (had I not been so out-of-my-mind afraid), my cranium flung high into the air. But what I saw was more like an apparition than reality, and for a moment, hope sprung from deep in my heart, overflowing relief allowing my muscles to relax. I was afraid to believe my luck: had I really managed to find the one that I had come here to seek out? "Tamira..." his voice was like a drug, calling me closer. I needed his strength, his comfort, and yet still I stood, immobilized. I didn't dare believe that he was there. "What brings you out so late?"

His voice was laced with something akin to pain, and for a moment, I saw my own anxiety reflected in his gaze. I couldn't speak; all I could do was stare desperately into his eyes, searching for something that I could not name. I had come for his comfort, or course, and so he could keep me in check when I blacked out. But I had also come to - to what? To test him? To see if my feelings for him were unfounded? In the days since our first meeting, I had been consumed with thoughts of him, with memories of the electricity of his touch. I had never felt this way about another before, and after several days' incessant thought, I knew that my deepest desires had been answered: I loved him. I loved him for the way he had managed to contain and comfort me, for the way he had stood by me in what I was sure was my darkest hour.

And more than that, I needed him. It was but a moment before he spoke again, the emotional turmoil in him enough to break the spell of immobility. "I'm glad you came." A small, tight smile brushed across my lips, ever so brief, and then I was moving fluidly, easily forward, reaching my muzzle to touch his, to caress the soft, tender skin; and then it was onwards, slipping my cranium to press against his nape, hiding, in a sense, in his thick mane. He was ever so much larger than I, and his proximity was a calming thing, almost seeming to create a lull before the storm that I was sure would be coming. I breathed deeply, for the first time in what seemed like hours (it may very well have been hours, I realized), and his scent enveloped me, wrapped around my mind, drawing me closer.

And, for a moment, I was blissfully happy.

But it would not last, of course. I could feel the insistent pounding in my mind, the sharp pangs that rattled my skull with pain. I pulled away, perhaps the hardest thing I've ever had to do, for as we parted, my safety net fell away, and again the terror invaded me. I did not go far, only far enough to look into his eyes, to will myself to calm. "It's happening again," I said simply, and I knew he would understand. Perhaps it was an irrelevant comment; he already seemed to know why I had come. And yet, still he was glad to see me. "I... I need you. I... you're the only one who can help me." But it was so much more than that, so much that I cannot seem to put into words.

"talk"

If love is surrender, then whose war is it anyway?