The Exultare could not begin to understand, let alone relate to the trials this woman had endured. Her life within the Nomads was rather unremarkable in comparison to both the practices of the Exultare as well as the horror told by this mother. The atrocities forced upon another was not something the woman was ignorant to, but it still grated her ears and brought the bile to rise into her gullet with disdain upon hearing of it. She could not pity one that had endured such a hardship and prevailed for it was not an experience she had. None the less, she lowered her eyes and ears mournfully but kept quiet as the Lady continued in the hopes of provoking a revelation.
But again came the topic of love; the notion that always seemed to rear itself and it was that that she ran away from constantly. She might have admitted her love for the child Sarian, but she did not understand it. What she felt for the child had not gone beyond wanting to maim, let alone kill her surrogate and caretaker. Rather she wanted the child protected, coveted so that she was the only one reflected within those innocent eyes, and it was her presence she sought above all others. But how it conflicted with the present status; the child was not of her blood and yet she treated the pup as such. This whole thought was strange, following the culture of the Nomad to take one and make them a part of your own yet at the same time going against their teachings in coveting what was not theirs. Possession was the horrid demon that reared itself only when the heart yearned for something too much; a counter to this demon she had never learned from her mentor.
The mind of the she-wolf worked fervently to part the clouds of confusion and bring about the light of understanding. She grasped blindly through the troubled clouds, hoping a warming light would at last shine upon her with new, much needed knowledge. Yet she could only shake her head to the wolf-dog’s question and brought a hand to her head to brush down her bangs, gesturing her lack of understanding in a form that brought her comfort. “I have not experienced a love for something alive before, nor suffered a love lost through death. Or perhaps I have… and simply did not know it.” She sighed softly, then let both hand and body fall away as she was brought down to her knees in the snow once the strength of her legs had given out. Still she continued.
“Nomads do not experience love as others do. We do not share the bond of blood, nor look to our bearers as… parents?” Briefly the lifted her eyes to the mother in question, hoping that that was the proper word. “It was through Sarian that I learned of this difference and wanted to experience it for myself against my reluctance. I felt it would be alright… but at the same time knew this was not so.” The woman brought a trembling hand to her chest. “A Nomad is encouraged to follow their path to its end and harbor no regrets for its transgression. But I have found nothing but pain and guilt in the pursuit of this… this love. I have succumbed to an act that shamed me, and felt ways for another I hadn’t thought possible. And yet…” Gradually the woman began to calm, her rampant heart no longer drumming against its cage at a relentless rhythm, but a soft, comforting pulse that radiated warmth throughout her form.
“Yet… I have experienced a happiness I have only ever known with my Shepard. And still I share this happiness with another. And yet I fear… what will become of me if he too is taken away from me? I could not do anything to keep the little one with me… what if I am unable to do the same with him? I am worried that it will come to pass and this feeling… this love will be gone.” Even the thought of it clenched her heart. “I don’t want to be rid of it again. I can’t let it happen. I cannot imagine the loss brought on by death when the pain and fear of losing the living is this much to bear.”