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The wind streamed past them as the scenery and ground surrounding the two, the sound of laughter and pounding hoofs the only thing echoing through the quiet skies of the Ravkan woodland. The hood she had once worn had long fallen from her head, instead wrinkled in the wind as her red locks. She let her hands loosen from the leather, spread her arms wide in the flow of squalls that had not been hers but just nature's. For once since her eight year on Earth she had felt careless, as if she was able to breathe without someone pushing a burning stake against her throat for being, for walking the same grounds as her fellow Grisha.
Emiliya turned to look back at the dark haired man and even in the dark she could see a smile growing on his face, and though she had fast to drop her hands to reach for the reins again their grins had never faded. It had been exactly the freedom she had felt then she had wished for her people, for those all across Ravka and those who had fled regardless of whether they were Grisha or not. It had been the happiest the young woman had felt in a long time, it wasn't that she had been unhappy for in fact she was blessed with the safety of the Little Palace and her Kefta. As for the little friends she had met and had been the luckiest woman in all of Ravka for having a man desired by many dedicated to be on her side as much as she was on his.
But there was a time where she frowned through most of her days even long before her passage into the sea, where closing her eyes was something she ostracised and nights where she screamed herself awake. Not all scars she carried where solely mental, sported physical marks beyond the obligatory ones for surviving the Fold. To feel elation was to wake up for a purpose other than breathing, than knowing in the back of your mind you'd have to face nemeses again, to prove your worth over and over, it felt good to touch freedom.
