Harry & The Foxtail

o4 | exitus

o4

e x i t u s

Elude or get free from someone.

SHE STUMBLED BACKWARDS—taken aback— as the door burst open. Lovely's momentary fear felt lighter on her soul when she realised... it was only Val.

"We need to go now," he demanded walking in, the heels of his leather boots heavy and loud on the smooth marble floor. However Lovely, startled with shock at his brisk demand stood with her mouth agape but, her eyes resembled those of a fawn caught in a forest fire, the creature's eyes large and wide with fear for the fire coming towards it, the fawn about to call out to its mother in its final moments before the fire reaches it and its light died out.

Though as much as Valentine felt for her expressions, he could only prioritise that she was as still as a rock. With haste, he turned to her drawers and opened them. "Lovely, I'm being serious—we must go—now."

He started grabbing her things with a fast force and stuffing them into a bag. Lovely found herself even more confused. "But, Val... why must we leave? There is no threat." He heard her and only grabbed more, he did not respond. "Val—please answer me— what is happening?" He turned to her with the bag packed.

"Your father told me to take you out of Venice, away from the Zanotta's that are after you." Lovely's head turned toward the window at the sound of horses coming through the gates. They're here, he thinks. Valentine grabbed her hand. "We must go."

"But Val there are no Zanotta's after me," she managed to say, breathless.

They ran, his hand grasping hers, Lovely's yellow dress swooping behind her like sails moving against the ocean's winds. The sails battling the stormy winds of the sea's breeze, the salty air sweeping into the very fabric of the sail, as the ship with all its might continued — with extreme difficulty onto its destination. Somehow, as battalions look magnificent, she looked graceful, like a lady—like the Goddess of creation herself— as she ran for her life.

The Foxtail garden was weeping at the sight and touch of her feet running across the grounds. The grass lost its height, the flowers lost their sense of sight and their beautiful intoxicating smell as did Lovely's gardenias. They felt her leaving, not her leaving for the market—an innocent venture— but they felt as she left, it may be the last time they saw her. (Because it was uncertain if their Lovely would ever set foot in the Foxtail gardens again.)

Lovely was still waiting for Val's response, but the only one she got was his tense silence. The line in between his lips unmoving, her frown deepened as she realised there would be no explanation.

Valentine approached the stables, with Lovely in tow. He dropped the bag on his back and the hand that was wrapped around the maiden's hand. There were twenty different horses at the Foxtail estate, each stationed in their own area, a wooden fence separating each.

The first horse Lovely saw was a creamy white horse, with the fair mane of a goddess. It dazzled in the light of the day, the warmth and love it had pulled Lovely to stroke its head, and the horse nuzzled into her palm. When she realised whose horse this was, her eyes sparkled with stars of deep love for the fair headed horse.

She'd heard the tales of the horse that her mother had loved and cared for like it was her own child, her own blood. Lovely had heard how her mother had been there at the fair headed horse's birth, at her father's distaste.

She tended to it and brushed its fur. She loved that horse, she remembered the story of how her goddess like mother, would take the fair horse and ride into the woods and forests, how her long hair would flow behind her, like leaves dropping as they obeyed the rules of time, at the season's change. "Nysa," the goddess like Lovely had whispered, "Nysa, you sweet creature. My mother loved you, as I do too."