Honeyed Pasture Abandoned but not forgotten

For our little lovebirds @Embry

Vibrant oranges and reds painted the evening sky overhead, crying out from behind the hovering cumulous. Each vivid swipe of color clawed at the darkness waiting to emerge and cover the heavens with its somber visage. The waning sun hugged the curves of the earth with a vice-like grip; its rays stretching further than one could see. The barren trees, few and far between, rattled like snakes in the icy wind; combatting the comfort of the meadow. Seagulls called out above, fighting over a source of food unknown to the golden female below.

A frigid gust kissed the ivory fae’s lithe frame; carrying with it the taste of salt and the illusion of the sun’s warmth. The flaxen dove paused her stride with a slight shiver, taking in the smallest hint of the sea waiting for her beyond the swaying gold of the pasture. Each ray of light cast down upon her through the grayscale clouds was a promise of what’s to come, of which she hoped was good.

Feyre’s topaz optics scanned the lush horizon, squinting against the harsh rays of the fading sun. Her heart thundered for reasons unknown, for all she knew they could be the same reasons that lead her to the northwest. Had it been instinct or adventure? Perhaps it was simply the fact that she had seen nearly every corner of the Teekon, or perchance it was the sinking pit in her stomach that worsened with every step she took closer to the vast sea. The female sank to her haunches, curling over slightly in an attempt to combat the phantom pain. It was not the first time she dealt with such a physical sign of her own emotions, nor would it likely be the last. Alas, it was not the time for such frivolity, for the night’s dark shadows haunted the edges of her vision. Without the light of day to reveal the dangers lurking around each corner, a lone wolf was no match for the bears known to the area.

The dove breathed in deeply, releasing her clenched abdomen and gradually rising to her paws. Slowly, she began padding onwards, hoping to find some form of shelter before the moon won its war with the sun.

you don't know how long I've been waiting for this!

The ocean awakened Embry that morning, but it's rhythm seemed oddly offbeat today. Move. Move you idiot. That's what it seemed to be telling him, and yet... why? His emerald orbs flickered out across the sea. All day he had done this: stared with a frown at his childhood friend, listening to the wind buffet his thick, fur of honey — now cast bronze by the evening light. 

In the midst of his stupor, the young man decided it was time to explore the rest of his newfound home. The coast was a large and sprawling place. Surely there was more beauty than just along the strand, astounding though it was. Plus, he needed time to think. It seemed that today, of all days, the ocean was finally digging that lone thorn in his side: the one that had been nagging at him since... 

He shook his head; forced his large paws into motion away from the foamy shore. His large frame ambled in this way until, with the ocean somewhat muted behind him, a scent settled upon his palette. So familiar... so painful... Yes, he might not be physically ailed, but phantom pains did not spare him. She had been a part of him; of who he was. Even now, his first love - the ocean - told him of it. 

That's when he spotted her: a bird along the skyline. His mind told him, no, it can't be her, but his heart was alive again — alive and tapping away in that long-forgotten tattoo. He drew himself to full consciousness, willing his doubts to persuade him against such fleeting hopes as this. Manifest before him, the girl he stole. But the girl he never should have given back. And was she... hurt?

It lifted upon his lips like warm, soothing water. Feyre. And then, as she stood, there it came again, a whisper now, "Feyre..," until he could only run. The brute looked like a bear hurtling forwards, racing through the lemony strands faster than ever he had before. And when he reached her, he couldn't stop his old self — the closer he got, the more his doubts melted away. The more he needed her again. And he halted there, only pawsteps away, panting with those wide, cow-like orbs of sea-green. Words failed him.

The roar of the ocean nearby hummed loudly in her skull, accompanied by the screaming gulls diving above. Slowly, the sound of footsteps overcame the atmospheric noise, and yet they were not of her own. The fae stilled, her ivory head whipping from one direction to the next. What in the… She sank down into a more defensive posture, the sound of crashing waves still hiding the location of her pursuer from her.

A blurry figure appeared in the distance, bulky and wild in its advance. The dusky figure’s approach sent her wheeling backwards, all logical thought about bears stalling in her moment of fear. A chirp of shock and dread expelled from her parted maw before she instilled a façade of power. Perhaps dominance was what scared bears away? Or I’m about to die. Either way I suppose. Her mind reeled at the thought of dying out of stupidity. If she died though, it would not matter. If there are not people to remember your life after your death, were you ever even alive to the world?

Existential crisis aside; the figure came into view, and what she saw sent a bolt of shock deeper than that of any bear.

Embry?

She mouthed the word in surprise before her delicate maw twisted in horror. She wanted to scream, to cry, or perhaps even to simply touch him and see if he was real. It would not be the first time her mind teased her with apparitions. Instead, she simply stood before the panting brute in stoic shock, her face and cognizance frozen for what seemed like an eternity before she finally broke.

“You…” She murmured in astonishment, taking a step backwards. “You.” This time the word curled with malice and disgust, her memories rushing in like a typhoon. Feyre’s topaz eyes narrowed into a sharp glare, her words biting, “You left me.” The seething anger and hurt boiled red-hot beneath her skin. She could not think, she could not get past the tears that threatened to spill and the words that wished to flow along with them. Instead, she simply closed her mouth, her facing going void of emotion.

Feyre had changed. Embry had noticed it within seconds; had felt the aura that surrounded her as soon as he arrived. He tried to mask the pain that flowed, like torrents, into his steady gaze. He willed his breathing to halt enough it its incessant hammering to allow him the ability to speak.

To explain everything. How could he put it into words? How do you begin the repair of a broken relationship? Her words cut like daggers into his heart and soul. But all along, he had been expecting them. And they helped ease the guilt, somewhat. He needed this just as much as he hated to admit it. 

She was backing away. No, his mind screamed. No, not again! Not now. And upon the impulse, he lifted his paw gingerly forwards; afraid that she would run and just as afraid that it was he that she was recoiling from. But, of course, he knew the answer to that. He had hurt her. Feyre, of all things.

"Do you..." his fruity voice was jagged between breaths. "Do you remember what I said to you the night before I... left...?" 

Drowning. That’s what it felt like as she stood before the man that had called her his princess. Feyre’s emotions curled up into a weeping ball of pain within her, her every thought flipping through memories of them together. She shuddered outwardly at her last memories of him. The weeks she had spent searching, crying out his name. There were moments she considered the fact that perhaps it had all been a dream, but his scent still lingered like a teasing ghost.

The face snapped back to attention as her eyes caught his movement. It was as if he was approaching an injured doe, utterly aware of the fact that she might bolt at any moment. Truth be told, the thought of being the one to run away swirled around in her mind’s eye. If only I had the strength to hurt him as he hurt me.

His maw opened, and it was not an apology that rested upon his tongue. Instead it felt as though he was weaving another web to catch her with. His words struck a nerve deep within her, causing her clouded eyes to darken with pain. “That you loved me?” She choked on the words. “Perhaps I do not know what love is supposed to be, but I am certain that if you love someone you don’t leave them.” The hurt laced into each word. Months of sadness weaving delicately into every syllable. He had broken her. Played her. Used her. Yet now here he stood, looking at her as if she had fallen from the heavens, and all she wanted to do was be embraced by him once more.

Embry closed his eyes at the fae's bitter tone. When he opened them again, they were not defiant; nowhere close to defensive. They were utterly contrite: full of disbelief, love, and that same tenderness as the day they'd first found peace. Would they always meet like this? Fighting at the onset?

"Feyre... I told you that I loved you. I really loved you. And," he released a heavy sigh; oxygen he had been storing for what felt like years. All the pain and regret chipping at his core now, more than ever before. "I still do love you."

He shook his head again; laughed but ruefully - something that didn't touch his eyes. "Why would I hurt something I loved so much on purpose?" And he met her gaze again. This time his emotions were mixed; harder but all the more soft in their passionate carriage. "What was I supposed to do, Feyre? I stole you from a better life with a pack that could provide for you. I wasn't about to watch you die, so I chose the next best option." 

Every bone in her body wanted to close the distance between the pair. His sugar coated words sang to her, each syllable pulling upon the strings of her heart as he confessed his love for her.

Joy bubbled up inside of her, causing a minute smile to crack the corners of her mouth. The sparkles in her amber eyes implied to what her ivory visage lacked to show, and yet her emotions came crashing down again as he explained himself.

Anger and confusion replaced her former happiness, her brows knitting together in angst. “I believe I went with you very willingly.” Her head canted to the side, far less cute than predatory. “Yet your logic is that you abandoned me to survive in the woods alone, so that I would not die?" Her features returned to his in disbelief. "Have you looked at yourself recently? You are nearly two times my size, and yet you thought: ‘You know what’s a great idea? Leaving the woman I love in the wilderness without ever even saying goodbye.’ -and for your information, I have done perfectly fine all by myself.” Besides that one time... her mind was at war with itself, her thoughts and words overlapping in a stream of rage and hurt. 

This time her words were nearly a whisper, “I left them... what makes you think they would’ve even let me back in?” Her head dropped, her energy utterly drained. “I would have followed you to the ends of the world, and yet you still thought I’d be better off without you?” The dove's gaze met his, riddled with somber incredulity.

He saw it: for a fleeting moment, the ghost of a smile flit upon her lips. That smile that, even now, in the afterglow, lit up the waning embers of dusk. Embry's heart seemed to skip a beat at that moment.

What she said was true. In fact, it made perfect sense to Embry; it had, after all, been the exact words he had debated against himself with. He had left her to fend for herself, alone. And, as idiotic as it sounds, it had been intentional. All this stormed through Embry's mind as she spoke, adding to the sting of each syllable. 

His tail swayed slowly behind him, peaceful and rhtyhmic. Where did that smile go? How he wanted it back. That and so much more. "I just... I didn't know," he murmured; eyes clouded in thought. He was replaying that night in his head, just as he had a thousand times before. "We were in a safe place... It just seemed like you deserved more. And without me, that was possible. Anything was possible for you."

He couldn't explain it. Every word felt like a lead weight upon his chest. "Winter was coming. I was no amazing hunter — there was a reason I wanted that damned carcass so bad, Feyre. My first pack within the Fen had just collapsed... I was a loner again and I didn't understand the responsibility of companionship... But I've found Stormrift and... Everything I do teaches me just how wrong my actions were that night." 

One of the things he loved about Feyre was her resilience. He didn't expect her to easily recover or even accept his presence. But an apology seemed like the coward's way out; too easy and too final. He didn't need her to tell him it was ok, he needed her. Feyre. The girl he fell in love with more than the ocean itself.

It was frustrating how something so lovely to look upon could be so bewildering. Embry spoke of her future as if she had one, but he did not realize that she had been just as lost and alone a he, with or without her pack. “If we sat here constantly debating what is good for my future, we could be here forever. Did it ever occur to you that I should have had a choice in the matter? It is my future, is it not?” 

Feyre looked upon him with keen interest, taking in the defeated dip in his shoulders and the pained look in is cerulean gaze. “Mon doux-“ She pulled the nickname out of the dark without realizing it, “-companions work together, I was not a child, nor was I stranger to the trials of the wilds.” The dove leveled him with her gaze, forcing eye contact. “You do not understand how good we could have been.”

Her weight shifted backward as she remembered a word he slipped into his explanation. “You have a pack?” She wavered slightly at the word. Perhaps that was why he left her. She was simply a responsibility to him, not worth the energy it supposedly took to care for her. With a pack, he need not worry about the dangers of the day. In the end, who was the one who spent weeks looking for the other?

Me...

Feyre’s heart clenched at the thought, and even though he admitted he was wrong for leaving her, she was still not at ease. “Embry...” His name felt like lead upon her tongue. “I’m not sure what I should be thinking right now. What is it you want from me?” I can not handle to be left again. The silent plea radiated through her bones.

Every word she spoke was true. Indeed, this was not the first instance in which they had plagued his mind; jabbed at his lungs like claws through his ribs. But he had never heard them from Feyre, and that's what made this all the more painful to withstand.

He just kept watching her — sea-green orbs locked upon her every movement, drinking in the sudden familiarity of her presence and the warmth it entailed. He didn't realize it, but there were parts that he missed now more than ever: parts of her he had forgotten about besides everything that had pestered him for the months following her absence. Mon doux... The word made a smile flit to his lips; brief but visible even in the auburn light. A breeze seemed to rise upon the grass and push the field into a velveteen quake around them.

Could have been? The moment glitched within that statement. And then he almost flinched at the tone of her voice mentioning his newfound home. He had completely forgotten about that, and it certainly made his case look a lot worse.

"I had to find the ocean again," his voice was lower than before, but steady; even. "I grew up on the beach and... it was all I could think to do. I was depressed and I can't imagine what I might have done to myself had I not found the Rift."

Surely she understood that had it been the other way around, he would have searched for her. He would have traversed the ends of the earth for Feyre. How could she not believe that?

"I'd never ask for anything from you..," his voice was almost a whisper now. He had not heard his name upon her lips in so long. "I just miss you. So much. And I promise you I did not mean to abandon you. That's not what I thought I was doing... You just sounded so noncommital. It made me believe that maybe you regretted everything. So I decided by leaving, I wasn't putting you in that position anymore." It all sounded so messed up in the evening air; like some kind of unfair joke the world was playing upon him. He wanted to go back to that night and understand just what he was thinking, that he would give up this one piece of heaven.

Her topaz eyes peered up at the evening sky as the last few rays of lights gave way to the rising moon. Glittering stars faded into existence as her attention swayed back to the male as he spoke.

Feyre’s head canted slightly to the side, a side-effect of her listening intently to his words. She had never known the touch of the ocean or the sound of it crashing upon the shore. Even then, as the tides swept in and out upon the beach afar, she still could not form a specific image of the sea. Embry’s connection to something not alive, but seemingly flourishing with life was foreign to her; and yet she saw the nostalgic look written upon his face and knew how much it truly meant to him.

Despair burrowed into the pit of her stomach as he mentioned his turmoil. To be so upset about leaving her that he considered…leaving…himself. “Embry…” Her voice was a soft murmur to begin with, yet it faded as he continued.

Guilt turned into irritation as he spoke of her commitment to him. It was always about unrequited feelings with him, although they always were. Was it her fault that she had felt uneasy after he confessed his love for her? Was leaving with him not proof enough? Would she always have to convince him of how much she cared?

The dove’s voice dropped from a sonnet to a hollow version of what it had been, stress building in her tone. “I don’t understand how you didn’t think that by me deciding to leave with you, to spend my life with you, I was not committed to you?” Confusion swirled within her. “That was how I showed my feelings for you, and yet you twist it into something insignificant? It is better than showing you care through leaving, is it not?” Her elegant forehead crinkled, her breathing quickening, “Is that not the definition of non-commital? RUNNING AWAY?” Feyre ground out the words, her voice nearly a shout.

Her head had tilted now. Ribbons of honey raced from the slender curve of her cheek to the shoulder, bathed now in lavender twilight. He lost himself in the amber grace of Feyre's presence; lost himself in her voice — painful though it was to hear in such a broken tone. He wanted to kill whatever had hurt her and, yet, he had become the paradox. 

She repeated everything he had already heard before: things the world told him with every shift of his paws, whistle of the sand, and rush of the sea. Embry could only listen now and wonder how many times before he had awaited this moment. And no matter what she said, he would never take offense. Never. Because he knew, in the back of his mind, that he deserved it. And it showed in those oceanic pools; in the slight squaring of his shoulders; the pendulous sway of his caramel-pleated tail. 

A familiar heat encopsed his body, too, as he stood there, peering through the gathering darkness. He became increasingly aware of the adrenaline rushing through his veins and the friction that welled within his abdomen like a knot. His breathing had considerably softened, even when Feyre's voice rose; even when it made him shudder all the more and clench his jaw.

A long silence followed in which he only searched her gaze. When he spoke, his voice was as cool as ice — not so much in anger towards her so much as it was towards his own inability to explain everything. "What I did that night was a mistake, Feyre, and I have paid for it everyday since," he dropped his gaze. Shook his head again with a muffled sigh. "But I never just ran away."

"I thought of you every night. My heart has been with you in everything... It never mattered to me that you were necessarily "committed". I hate putting it that way. Like you can label love..," he had to shut his eyes now. To see her, even in his peripherals, was enough to make his body tremor; the heat within his chest jumping like sparked flames.

The silence between them felt like an eternity. Only the sound of the wind weaving through the barren trees, pushing the snow onto the dead grass below, remained. It was nearly quiet enough that she could hear each wavering inhale of his breath.

The dove’s features twisted from seething to resigned as the eternity subsided and his regrets resurfaced. It seemed that he was readily apologizing, and yet the unease still lingered within her heart. The brute before her was sincere, handsome, and cared for her… and yet at the same time he was the man who left her, pushed her and denied that it was actually he who had committed it.

Feyre’s doubts circled within her mind’s eye like vultures around a carcass, her feelings and fears swirling into a vat of confusion. “That’s the problem Embry. Right now, you say that how committed I am – was.” She corrected herself, “– to you doesn’t matter, and yet you used to obsess about it.” She let out a puff of air. “You say your heart has been with me, but you weren’t. Not when I needed you most, so how am I supposed to trust you without knowing that one day I might wake up alone…again.”

The honeyed fae sighed heavily, her eyes searching the stars for the solutions she sought. She had never given her trust back to someone who broke it, and perhaps today was not the day to change her pattern. It was odd that she had even stopped to hear what it was the male had to say, but even she knew that if she had not stopped to listen to him she would have thought about it for the rest of her life.

It hurt to know that they only thing that kept him from her was himself. He could have searched for her if he truly cared as much as he said he did, and yet he did no such thing.

Feyre’s amber gaze slide back to his, nearly black in the dark evening. Resolve laced her tone as she murmured, “I’m not sure I can ever trust you again…” Her eyes welled up with emotion, “I – I just need to go... Goodbye Embry.” Her voice faltered on his name, and yet she still began to back away.

All Embry wanted to do was comfort her. Feyre. The only creature daring enough to trust him so much. And when he raised his gaze again, he watched how her eyes fluttered among the stars. Her beauty was so natural; so fulfilling. The moon upon her heavenly fur enunciated the soft, feminine curvature of her shoulders; the subtle rounding of her hips and the gentle stir of her breast that, even in such turmoil, rose and fell in even tempo. He thought of all those times he had listened to that heartbeat. Wondered if that is why he loved the ocean so much.

And then her eyes met his. His stomach clenched, heat rolling like chills upon his back and along the muscles of his pelvis. Her words barely seemed to register — they just sounded so artificial; so surreal. His eyes spoke what his vocals failed to stammer: that he needed her to trust him. That he had been a fool.

A million sounds thrusted themselves into his mind; tinny, broken things that felt like cheap shots just to hurl at her. He felt like he was sliding and there was nothing solid to catch himself from falling. Falling hard. Which was ironic, because had he not already?

But what could he do? He stepped forward; stammered, "Feyre..," and then again, "No, it's so dark... It's so dangerous here... Just please... Wait..." But he had already felt the snap. Like a safety harness: that single snip that made the world nothing more than a blur and then... nothing.

The dark kiss of night hovered darkly over her late partner’s bulky frame, enhancing the sorrow draping his features. Doubt crept up on her like that of a panther, her heart begging her mind to step forwards instead of backwards. She took a deep breath, closing out her combative thoughts and focusing on her goal. Every step backwards lengthened in stride, and yet she still had yet to turn around and break eye contact. The fae hesitated, a single ivory dipped paw hovering above the grass mid-stride.

Her eyes swept down from his face to her own paw, and then back up again. The weight of her choice sank her shoulders. No matter what words he uttered, he could not erase the past and she could not let it go…not yet. He had made a choice, whether it was now or then did not matter.

He took a step nearer, and with it she stepped further away. “It is no less dangerous for me out there alone,” She motioned to the encompassing dark behind her, “Then it is with you here.” Feyre’s voice hardened, “Go run along to the safety of your pack. I’d rather be alone then be surrounded by people I can’t trust.” 

The dove's brows set into a thin line, her optics gleaming with warning as she turned towards the obsidian darkness behind her. This time she spoke as she strode away, fearing that she would stay if she looked upon him once more. “Follow me and we will have a repeat of our first meeting, and I promise you: it will not end like it did in the past.”

She uttered no goodbye this time, instead she merely slipped into the darkness with a gentle sway of her hips.