17th Summer 504AV
In these days of Summer, it was easier to pretend that he still felt as close to Syna as he had the day Cadicus fell from her grace. The long cold Winters, even mild by Mizaharian standards in the Sea of Grass, hid the Sun Goddess too much with their clouds of grey and their depressing drizzles of rain. Spring and Fall were too changeable, too unpredictable. He could be bathing in Syna's light one moment before drenched in a downpour of rain the next. In Summer, his brunette hair was flecked with gold, and his ivory horns glinted in the light. In Summer, he could pretend that he still believed he was beloved. That he still meant something as a child of Syna. That she had not forgotten him completely.
With his thin cotton vest flowing behind, white beneath the sun, Cadicus felt on top of the world as he rode out of Endrykas on his Strider's back. Maritus had been a faithful friend since he had bonded with the Strider all those years ago, not long after he had come to the city of the tents. The Strider took delight in the long grass bending beneath his hooves, subjected to the relentless trampling, as rhythmic as drums played by the Stalk Meet. Cadicus sat lightly in the yvas, rocking with ease against Maritus' back, one with the horse, one with the Sea, one with the world in that moment. The hot sun beat down upon his glistening cheeks, and in that moment, he was glad.
To escape for a day was something he had longed for for a while. But Cypress hadn't let him go for a while, always needing him to check on Malicai, to take her to training, to help her with something around their pavillion. Her blue eyes pierced his heart at every moment, and when she hinted at her feelings, he could do nothing but turn away. He was not one of the Drykas, not really, and he was too old for the fourteen year old.
To escape for one day on his Strider's back was a blessing and a curse. A blessing that he might not have to break her heart and spirit for a day. A curse in that he was away from her. But enough of that - as he rode through the Sea, he would think of nothing save the rocking of his Strider beneath him, the long grasses trailing up against his boots, and Syna's gaze upon him. Today he would be glad. He would be. He would be. |