(The second part of the Learning series)

You had come into the world a whirlwind of emotions, of pain and loss, of confusion and frustration, you hadn't known what to do so you had screamed and cried and wailed to the raging night around you, your hands reaching for the presence you had felt besides you since as long as your infant mind could comprehend. And then you had been cradled in strong arms and hushed words of love and affection — none of which you could really comprehend — you had wailed even louder, even stronger than before always searching for the presence that you so longed for. And then you had been placed down, and you felt it, that constant, steady and grounding weight next to you and you had settled, comforted and content that you were there, where you belonged with who you belonged with.

You had turned your head, only slightly, but just enough and you had opened your eyes for the first time, the dark of the night still too bright, too loud, too different and it had hurt, and stung and you had wanted to shut your eyes again, but she had been looking at you, and her gaze was steady, it was bright and vibrant and her eyes had danced in the orange light that surrounded you and so you too held her gaze, comforted by the green that stared back.

You had reached out then, if only to feel her touch once more, and she too had held out her small warm hand. A smile in her eyes and you had thought, you had believed that in this instant, she was that moment between the beats of your heart, never really felt but always there, always one after the other, together in everything.

You had only just passed the first year of birth, inseparable in everything, with her besides you always, you had never once gone a day without looking at her, without holding her in some way, without even thinking about her, and you would have followed her wherever she had attempted to go. She was your other half. And your mother had cradled you in her arms every night, had sung you songs in a voice, soft and sweet, full of emotion and you had looked up into her eyes, green and vibrant just like hers, and when you had looked at her besides you, she had smiled, laughter reflected in her own green eyes and she had reached out to take a hold of the braid that so often fell within reach of both of your hands, and so you too had smiled, had stretched out a small hand to grasp the braid that was always there, always within reach, always one after the other, together in everything.

When you had survived your second year your mother had been called away — hushed words of survival, conflict and clan fighting falling onto blissfully unaware ears, you hadn't known what those words had meant and you had been happy when your mother had once more taken you both in her arms, had cradled you close and pressed her lips to your foreheads with whispered words, full of emotion and a promise to come home, to see you both once more and you had been happy to grasp her braid as you had done forever, to play with it and to suck gently on the end but you had seen her besides you, her eyes filling with tears and she had cried and shouted and held on ever so tightly to the braid in her own small hand and so you too had raged into the night, had let the tears fall and had held on as hard as you could, always one after the other, together in everything.

The winter had been long, harsh and cold, many nights spent cradled in your fathers embrace, strong and steady, the beat of his heart lulling you into a quiet, peaceful slumber. But you had fallen ill, the winter nights too biting, too devastating for your small body. You had coughed, and gasped, the breath a constant struggle to escape your lungs and your father had been there, had cried, the tears falling from his eyes, and you had thought that he was sad as he held you ever so tightly, words of prayer falling onto blissfully unaware ears. But you weren't afraid because she wasn't here, she wasn't with you as each breath fought to escape your lungs, so you wouldn't go where the winter was calling you because she wasn't going there with you, and so you had fought, you had struggled and you had succeeded, and when you had been returned to her side, her presence ever so comforting, she had smiled at you and you had smiled back, always one after the other, together in everything.

When your father had entered your room, a haunted, devastated, broken shine to his eyes, and when he had held you both in his arms she had wailed and cried and screamed and so you too had done the same for if she had felt the need to do something so too must you. And when your father had held out a braid to each of you, at once familiar yet so, so different, you had reached out and taken it, just like she had, and when she held it close to her, had embraced it so very, very tightly, so too had you and when she had raged into the void? You had done the same, always one after the other, together in everything.

You had survived almost four years, your body growing stronger, able to survive the harshness that was the ground, you had weathered the biting colds of the winter and the searing heats of the summer and you had grown, always with her by your side. And so you had found yourself, hanging from a branch just under her, struggling to reach, to climb even higher. And because she was there you wouldn't fail, wouldn't even think of not following her even if you couldn't quite reach as high as her, if you couldn't quite hold on as tightly. And your grip on the branch had wavered for just a moment, for just one terrifying, still second — you would fall, you would plummet to the ground — but she had reached out, had snatched you from the thralls of gravity and had held you tightly in her embrace, if she wasn't to fall, you wouldn't either, she wouldn't let you, so you had climbed again, higher and higher, always one after the other, together in everything.

When the hunting party had returned, you had looked up from where you played with the other children, her always by your side, and when you had looked and searched for the familiar face of your father, the ochre of his laugh and the timber of his voice always there to call you to him, you couldn't hear it, couldn't see him, couldn't feel him. And when a hunter had knelt down besides you, had clasped you both by the shoulder so very softly, a shine to his eyes, whispered words of the Mountain gracing your ears, her lip had trembled, her shoulders had shaken and her head had bowed, and so you too had felt the wetness pool in your eyes, had felt your hands begin to shake and the breath in your lungs begin to come in ragged gasps but you had felt her hand in yours, steady and grounding, and when she had squeezed so very tightly, you too had done the same, always one after the other, together in everything.

You had fallen, a nasty, deep cut had ran down the side of your leg and you had gasped, had held your leg ever so tightly and she had knelt down besides you, had embraced you ever so tightly and had whispered soothing words into your ear as she helped you back to the healers hut. You didn't notice the blackness that oozed from your cut, you didn't understand the shocked gazes from the other children you passed or the saddened eyes of the village adults that followed you as you hobbled into the hut, her embrace the only thing you felt and when she had squeezed you so very hard, afraid to let go, you had done the same, always one after the other, together in everything.

You had slept in the healers hut that night, her hand resting in yours and her head laid against the edge of your bed, you had gazed at her softly as she slept, the familiar waves of her hair cascading around her face, you had memorised her face and had loved her with everything you could imagine, and you had thought that you would follow her anywhere, would always be by her side and then you too had let sleep embrace you and in her sleep she had squeezed your hand ever so softly and you had returned it, always one after the other, together in everything.

You never noticed the warriors, proud and strong, atop their horses as they rode into the village late that night.

You had woken to angry words, to shouts and threats and you had looked for her, had searched frantically for where she had gone, to be comforted by her presence and you had seen her, barring the entrance to the healers hut, a warrior, tall and looming, her cheeks prominent, the dark of her warpaint deathly smudges around her eyes, her hair lighter than your own. You had seen the warrior smirk at her, had even knelt down besides her to offer quiet words before she had moved past her, had walked up to you and looked down at you as you lay, eyes widened in fear before you had turned to look at her, still lingering in the doorway, tears in her eyes and you had felt your own eyes begin to water, begin to blur your vision and as her tears fell, so too did yours, always one after the other, together in everything.

You had been taken by the arm, had been led to warriors atop their horses, faces hard from years of war, of suffering, of surviving, a man, tall and bearded, hair shorn close to the sides had smiled softly at you as your gaze fell on him and you had seen another, clothed in robes, head bald and gaze stern. He had knelt down besides you, had quickly inspected the deep cut that ran down your leg and had spoken to the warriors that surrounded you she has the blood and you had been swept off your feet, had been placed in front of that same woman who had entered the healers hut the previous day, and she had held you in a firm embrace.

You had been taken form where you had grown, from where you had survived for the first five years with her always by your side, and as you exited the village gates you had heard it then, faint at first but louder, desperation beginning to fill it with emotion, you had heard your name, cried over and over again and you had seen her running, her small legs frantically, desperately trying to reach the horses that took you from her and she had reached out and grasped at the air before her. You had twisted and turned in the saddle, trying to catch her eyes just once more and the warrior had lifted her arm, just slightly — ignoring the stern look from the bald man — and you had looked back, had reached out your own hand and you watched as she had fallen, her legs unable to keep up, but she had struggled to her feet, all the while crying your name, pleading for you to be returned and her eyes had filled with tears and they had fallen down her face, the green of her eyes shining with a desperation, with a devastation that you had only seen once before and so too had your eyes filled with tears, and you had let them fall and you.

You had cried out to her a promise and you had meant it, with the entirety of your being and you had believed it, you had wished it so very, very much.

I will see you soon

But you had seen it in her eyes, the resignation in her eyes and you felt the hollow beat of your heart. And you had looked at her as she knelt on the ground her eyes never wavering from yours, memorising the green of your eyes and you had looked at her in turn until a bend in the path had stolen her from you.

You didn't see Cleo again for many, many years.