come with me into the field of sunflowers

[Sarkan]

Sarkan The moral of the tale is this: whoever allows himself to be whipped, deserves to be whipped.   The magic was not used to such manhandling. Sarkan did not know how new it was, and how hungry, but he could sense its anger, the way the vines and roots hissed as they temporarily withdrew. He was relieved when the filly listened to him, fleeing like a hare with her wolf beside her. For a moment his silver knife lay still, and he stood a moment longer staring at the clearing, his sides heaving and pulse thundering like a river, as if to fix it in his memory, or challenge it further. It would be beyond foolish to stay, but Sarkan hated a draw like this; if there had been any prize at the end of it he might not have left, might have died alone on the island. But there was nothing in it save a story, and he already had that. There was only a breath’s moment when the faeries receded, and as soon as the roots began to stir and reach again Sarkan turned and ran, too, the unicorn a flash of white ahead of him through the trees, across the bridge, and at last on the far shore. He was also foam-flecked, blowing out long breaths when they at last stopped. Quickly he passed a practiced eye over Aspara, searching for injury - though of course she couldn’t have run so far so quickly if she were badly wounded. He had a few bracelets of scratches from thorns and rough roots around his legs, a pattern of marks down one shoulder, but he thought they’d come out better than the plants had. Sarkan faced the island with a frown, one that vanished when the unicorn spoke. “Thank you,” he said, his earlier smile resurfacing. “I wouldn’t have wanted to meet them alone, or without a translator.” His wink was not meant to be mocking, but he wondered if she took it so when she turned and began to walk away. He watched her, still catching his breath, and a part of him wished she would stay, or wondered whether he should accompany her home, or if he should remind her to be careful in the future. But she was not his daughter, and if she was he’d be too proud of her bravery to scold her. So he only called, “See you around,” and turned again to the island. For a long while he stood there, wondering. @Aspara