No, it’s her.
I hesitate.
Despite myself. Despite knowing better.
For one moment, everything stills to the same rhythm.
Breath.
Pulse.
Her.
If she looks up—if she lets me know she still feels it—I won’t go.
The council. The future. They can all be damned.
I hold my breath.
The pull is a rip tide… drowning me.
But she doesn’t look up.
I exhale ragged.
Then, turn away.
Winnie moves beneath me, breaking into a gallop. Each hoofbeat is another ending.
Still, the echo follows—maybe to torture me—her pulse braided with mine, the vibration of the Starborn Range rising between us.
I head for the winter pasture, the old herding cabin to disappear.
Long enough for her memory of me to evaporate, though I know that will never happen.
The kiss quickened the resonance. Not enough to bond, plenty to break.
The council’s final judgment rings in my ears.
Self-exile.
No hesitation.
No waiting.
Shame transforms into determination. I almost gave in. Almost caved to the need.
I numb my mind—at least, I try—pushing the herd northward. Winnie breathes hard, straining from the work of many horses.
But my head aches less the further I get from the mountains and Josephine. The empty ache in my chest goes quiet and dull.
I need this solace, the quiet that comes with it.
At the cabin, I strip to my waist, nothing worse than fabric against the marks when they burn.
The dark air fills with their luminosity. Moving and pulsing.
But it’s faint this time, growing more so. I’ve done right, though I feel something much darker and more dangerous lingering at the margins of my soul.
