Wild ​Reverence

by Rebecca Ross

And I wondered how it was possible for my heart to miss something that I had never experienced.

The gods did not care what happened to us. They did not answer when we called upon them.

It did not matter how desperate I was to reach her where she was, to stretch out my hand and take her own. We only touched in fleeting moments.

She was not mine by spoken vow but something deeper. Something that felt older, stronger, darker, like a language that had been sung centuries ago but had now been forgotten. Something that simmered in the blood, calling to me, calling to her.

I could tell she was aware of me now, how my body was aligned with hers. How we drew breath together, our chests heaving in tandem, the feel of my hands and the cadence of my voice, how they both held her tethered to me. It was greater than any prayer I could have uttered, any words I could have written down in ink.

Once there is a child, you begin to see how quickly the days pass. How the sennights melt like ice beneath the sun. The seasons spin faster, the years suddenly feel much shorter. You hardly feel your own age, or how the years have marked you, until you measure them against those of a child.