Found:
My night with Steel proved unfruitful. Usually, where I can quiet my mind and work through my troubles in such a way, with naught but my beloved steed for company, I failed to do so on this occasion. It didn't help. Nothing helped. And now I know why.
Kestrea had come to visit. I was no sooner out of the stables than she came to speak. I must admit, I was unkind. Though her wording could certainly have been better, it is no fault of hers. Not really. Between the pain, the pressure and the fear, I overreacted. I know this now.
It is not entirely my own fault, but I know that I am not blameless.
As I spoke to her, there came a voice inside my head. It was mine, but not mine. It was her. It was Silver. My biggest fear realised, or so I thought. The added day, the voice that should not be able to speak directly, the crushing feeling of being weak and frail and useless. Amplified. Everything amplified and uttered back to me in a voice that no one else could hear...
I bought the mare. She may never be used for riding now, but at least she's company for Steel.
I stayed out for most of the day. I wanted the two to get used to one another. I wanted them to feel each other out in an open, neutral setting. I wanted to still myself against the mocking from inside.
I thought it had worked, so I returned. But as I entered the stable, she came back. Louder than ever. "Don't tell him. You know he'll just use it as an excuse to leave you behind." I tried not to listen. I tried to ignore her.
I passed out in the hay. Whether it was a true passing out, or simply that I had exhausted myself with tears, I do not know. Does it matter, really? The result was the same.
Upon waking, she was still there. She still goaded and needled and threw my every concern right back at me, making them so much worse than they are and yet, at the time, it all seemed so sensible, as if she spoke naught but truths I had been trying to deny.
It was only when I threw up, when I found that I could not see straight that I knew something else was at play. I knew it deep down. Woad had seen it earlier, telling me that I had looked unwell, and she was right. But I hadn't felt it at the time, so I ignored the observation. By then, however, I couldn't. I needed help.
I should have gone to him, I know. I should have told him instead of slipping a letter beneath the door and trying to get away without his notice. I shouldn't have listened to the paranoid ravings of the unseen, but I was scared.
I'll admit it here, though I may never get a chance to admit it to him personally. I was terrified. I was terrified that the voice was right, that he would leave me behind. I was terrified that the voice was real. That she was taking over. That I would lose myself and lose him.
I think I may have done that anyway.
He found me at the door. He took me to Dernwynn, as I insisted. Along the way we argued and, at her house, he left me. My suggestion. He told me he wouldn't need the mare after all and he left.
Dernwynn was helpful. I hate being looked after, but I needed it then. She got to the bottom of the issue. A runner was sent, but could not find him and when I returned home, healthier than before, he was gone. His things were gone. All save the placid mare and the scarf I'd given him for Yule.
I can only hope that this does not mean what it appears to mean.
I drafted a letter to Woad. She deserves an explanation and an apology. Now I wait to offer both. I'm not sure I'll have a chance to give the same to him.
All this over a salad.
I think, perhaps, I should declare myself a carnivore from now on.
