The magic had torn them apart, and it was the magic now that drew them back together. Like a moth to a flame, she comes to him in the night. As he stands beneath the moonlight, he ponders on all that had come before. On all that he had lost.
Gone was Enipeus – Merrick, his mother, Eos, and his first love Cade. Gone was Ravos – Creeper, Maaemo, Alpenglow, and the failed kingdom of Sydan. It had been swallowed by the magic which eventually he came to know as the Rift. The Rift had dragged him, and all he loved into its grasp. But it also gave him joy once more.
For longer than he’d care to admit, Metaphor had named his home by the land where he’d lived. But he’d come to realize now, that home was not a place… home was where the heart made it. Since the Rift, his home had been in Katniss. And now, he was lost without her.
It had been too long since he’d seen Katniss, but in his dreams, she was real and warm beside him. In his dreams, the nights were far less lonely. They could be anywhere, cursed by all else in the world, but in each other they could find shelter. So beneath the moonlight now, the red stallion lets himself dream of her once more, his eyes closing as he brings her to mind, smiling softly beneath the moonglow.
She would be beautiful but brave, a lethal combination. Smart as a whip, and strong but vulnerable, if only with him. That had been their secret then, that she would let him into her weaknesses, that he would be her strength. Metaphor was the calm to her storm, the shelter for her heart. As he opens his eyes, it’s almost as if he sees her there, standing in front of him, waiting expectantly with her eyes bright with hope.
There is a stillness to the night, and his smile is light as he lets the dream take him. Closing the gap between them with one step, two, he is beside her for what seems the first time all over again. There is warmth emanating from her body, mist where her breath meets the night. She smells of honeyed wildflower and the night breeze that picks at her mane. And in this moment, she seems real enough to touch.
His heart catches in his throat as he reaches for her, surprise and dark pleasure crossing his face as his lips meet the warmth of her neck. Metaphor’s touch is gentle against her, caressing as his lips travel the distance of her mane, stopping near her ear. Unsure of whether or not he is still dreaming, he whispers to his beloved. I thought I’d lost you… and he waits for her beneath the autumn moon, lost in her presence once more.
