I had met his eyes at the crux
of our endeavors. Whatever he had to say
was already lost in the din. Behind me,

the dull roar of a thousand men and four thousand angry hooves
pounded mercilessly into the bloodied snow
and matched the fevered pulse of Genghis Kahn. I flattened my composure

with a steady fist of steel and hide.
Some hot, intangible force seethed and boiled in the pit of my stomach,
working its way to the tips of my fingers, lighting them like the crude torches

of a Mongol horde. Stallions, not butterflies,
bucked and heaved with callous audacity.
I swallowed gingerly to keep them down,

but the rigid knot grew taut around my neck.
The feel of the frostbitten leather bridle chaffed
and burnt the most tender recesses of my heart until

they hardened with an arctic defiance. Its once subtle lines
stiffened into frosted peaks of rock and glass.
The horses were uneasy,

blanching at the scent of cold sweat mingled with fear.
A thousand eyes watched him standing there,
watched the thousand eyes staring back from behind him in terrified defiance.

I had wondered about the nature
of our epic fairytale conquest. Had it been a battle for territory,
for pride, or the love of another? I’d never know what was hidden

in the locks of his weather-beaten fur mantle. We weren’t in love,
we were in war. Forty paces back into our history
he wouldn’t accept, and nor would I. But we’d make the textbooks.

The crude bows of his horde targeted the cool iced valley
at the base of my twin-peaked heart, but it was he who parted his lips
and brought down the axe.