It's the horse he recognises--Bran knows what mischief the island is pulling, but hasn't found everyone he knows yet. Guenever looks very different, though he would not have guessed in any case how she should have looked.
But her scent is the same, and Cafall knows it, trotting purposefully toward her--him--and pausing but once to look over his shoulder at Bran as if to say, You come now.
When Cafall came to her, Jenny dropped into a crouch, scratching behind his ears and welcoming as a true friend, though her eyes remained on his master. She tilted her head, lips parting as she framed her words.
"Can you still love me as a mother, then, dearest heart?"
"As if I would not!" Bran protests, dropping to a knee to join her. "It will only be a few days," he promises, running a hand through Cafall's fur. "The island has its own magic."
"Even if I am more father than mother?" teased Jenny, reaching out to ruffle Bran's hair as she ruffled Cafall's.
"I am assured," she said, "And thus will bear this new skin calmly, in the knowledge that my old, worn skin will swiftly return." She preened a little.
"You are you," Bran says simply, "and none of the islands tricks change that, I have found." Well--one does seem to, but he prefers not to remember that one at all.
"I've never been able to grow one," Bran muses. "Not that I've ever really wanted to, mind. I don't like--er." His cheeks coloured faintly. "That is, I wouldn't want Will to, for instance."
This is, then, one of the strange part about meeting one's mother only a few years older than one's self. It should be more uncomfortable, perhaps, but Bran's surprised smile lights up his face for a moment like a flash of fire. "I shall leave you all the bearded men, then, and keep the smooth cheeks for myself?"
But her scent is the same, and Cafall knows it, trotting purposefully toward her--him--and pausing but once to look over his shoulder at Bran as if to say, You come now.
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"Can you still love me as a mother, then, dearest heart?"
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"I am assured," she said, "And thus will bear this new skin calmly, in the knowledge that my old, worn skin will swiftly return." She preened a little.
"I am handsome, am I not?"
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"I always saw a certain pleasure in a bearded husband, myself," she teased.
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"I have had my fill."
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"Do not," she said, simply. "Love him your whole life."
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"Learn from your mother's mistakes, heart."
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