It was strange to be alone in the swamp. Stranger still to be a fraction of himself. Once, he'd had—he wasn't even sure what they could be called, but there had been others. They were only vague faces and swirling feelings, now. It was a lifetime ago and it seemed that he was on a third one.There was his first life with blurs of want that had led to a deal. Why it was made and even who it was made with, he couldn't quite recall. He knew that after it, he had changed. A second life. The one with the friends or were they enemies? Was there something in between all of that? Did it even matter? Perhaps not, now that the deal had been—had it been broken? Or lost? What was it for and what had it offered? Did he still have any of it now or had he lost it? To have memories, he thought it must be a boon and yet perhaps that would have been a curse. To remember . . . would he then have guilt? Or fear? It was impossible to tell.
He'd left the crowd behind once the night had broken and they, the ones severed from a second life, had been left shellshocked. He wasn't sure who he was or what. He'd burrowed himself down into a rough pit of a den under a shard of rock and tangle of tree roots. To hide and to think, but then he'd mostly whittled sticks and braided willow strands. He crafted with whatever materials he could find and it wasn't right, but it helped to do something and to make something.
But it wasn't enough. It wasn't a life. He needed more. Maybe if he could find that, he could build the desire to search out answers.
What that more was, he didn't know. There was no path outlined in his mind as he pulled himself from the den and looked into the swamp.
One hoof lifted, paused in the air. Then it came down and pressed down into the hard dirt. Another one followed, and then another one after that.
If you ask a kin how they met their other, most would have a meetcute story. Sometimes embellished, other times fabricated entirely, it ran the gamut. And sometimes a meetcute was a physical run in. Such was the case when Serenade for Two witnessed in real time what fierce determination and aimless wandering looked like. Because hello, it's not like she was a shrinking violet and blended in with her surroundings. She had nice hair for swamp's sake! It could be argued that it could have been avoided. Yes, she could have stepped aside, but with blatant disbelief, she, too, was surprised when the buck walked right into her. In bright daylight. Her jaw dropped in disbelief, and out tumbled the bundle of flowers she held previously.