He'd prepared a bushel of herbs, a vine of fruits, and a whole boar. Lucky Sevens had done the work for that, he himself could not have brought down a whole boar. He left at nightfall, dragging his bounty, the serpent slithering beside him. He would find her at the food place, he’d been told. He would find her at Rise & Shine. Perhaps the Legendaries really had magical powers after all: she’d met him, the dawn not quite yet licking at their heels, a distance down the road – a distance before Rise and Shine. She met him near dawn, gold eyes blazing, stood there on the path like she’d been waiting. Like she’d known he’d come."You have brought offerings," she said, a statement, not a question.
He bowed his head, stilling his step.
"Yes," he answered, as if it were a question. He did not else know how. His serpent slowed, coiled, flared its wings, then slid into the brush. He glanced up to see her gold eyes flicker as they followed the motion into the green.
"You have heard of my ways," another statement.
He lowered his eyes.
"I came to seek you," he said.
"You knew to seek me," she said, and there was a resignation behind her words that he did not understand and so let lie.
"Yes," he answered, though that too had been a statement.
She approached him, then, her steps silent like the best hunters’, a shadow in the dark as she circled his burdens.
"You have done well," she said.
"It is half my serpent’s work," he said, because he could not take the credit for another’s kill.
"I can imagine which half," she murmured, and he fancied her amused.
"Very well," she said, "you must seek a blessing."
"Yes," he said.
"What do you desire?"
"Health," he said, and then he paused, and said, "happiness. For the children. And their mother."
He could feel her burning gaze on him.
"She is beautiful," and this, he could not tell if it was a statement or a question.
"Very," he said, and his voice tasted like wistfulness and regret.
"What is your name?" she asked, and inside he cringed.
"I am Song to Say Goodbye."
"Ah."
It felt as if the silence beat in time with his thudding heart.
"May they be healthy," she finally spoke; her voice was measured, calm and wise, as if it came from a very deep place, as if he’d been measured, and found wanting, but was to get his wish nevertheless, "and happy, children and mother both. And may they never think more on the father than he would think on them."
Perhaps the Legendaries really did have magical powers after all; it was said they did. It was said they could look through to your heart. He felt very bare right now, as if his thudding heart had been cut right out for her to see.
The doe had really been very beautiful.
His mouth tasted like wistfulness and regret – perhaps, he thought, for the first time in his life, he more regretted that he hadn’t stayed.
But then, he also thought, he would likely think more on her than she would on him.
"Thank you," he said, and he was surprised and not surprised that it came out as a whisper.
"Leave this," she said, "it will be taken care of."
Then the shadow spun into shadow, and he fancied he saw a sleek owlcat disappear into the night. He left off his burden and turned away.
The serpent slithered back to his heels and they left, a different road than whence they came. He did not look back. He did not quite dare.
END