And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan’t crack;
And death shall have no dominion."
Ever since the cosmic darkness and the rushing return of her longing (her searching, her rage, her need to tear the world asunder), Thana has been dreaming. They are dreams that come the dawn she cannot recall. There is only the flush of brine and sweat below her eyes and the racing of her heart to whisper to her memories of running, and running, and running.
The feeling follows her outside the castle, her heart racing like a thing gone to war even as she walks. It follows her though the gardens and the flowers that wilt towards her shadow and the vines that fall to the ground in the tracks of her tail. And it follows her into the forest, where the willows whisper a lament into their rotting roots and the grass bows away, away, away before the fall of her form in the dappled sunlight. At the sight her heart gallops onward and her lungs stutter back to life beneath her skin.
She starts to feel the ache of it, of the forest pressing in sharply, of her magic rising to meet the feel of life, and ancient wisdom. And she's still aching with that hunger, that gnawing feeling of needing to dive into the roots, and clouds, and veins of magic in the dirt, when she hears him talking to the trees. Her heart, her racing heart, trembles over itself at the memory of hearing another voice talking to the trees.
A low branch brushing at her hip starts to frost and turn black. Eligos brushes underneath it as he joins her. His teeth are still stained with the fruits of his morning hunt.
Moss grows in her wake as together they step closer. Each of them watches the stallion, noses lifted like wolves tasting a herd on the wind. Behind their lips their teeth ache. “Do the trees answer you?” Beneath her skin her heart is still racing and her magic with it.
And when she steps closer still, the fruits beneath the pine start to grow overripe.
@Willfur
