09-26-2016, 08:21 AM
Gritty sand clung to her small hooves like disgusting sea urchins, loathe to relinquish their hold on her. If only men were so determined. But that was hardly fair, she supposed. Wallace was still a child to a stranger's eyes. Well, her adopted mother would have also agreed.
Details.
She usually liked when the sun baked down on her, but she was too irritated to find any joy in it today, fervently scrubbing her feet against a discarded log of driftwood. The blasted sand absolutely refused to release her, abundantly itchy and not at all attractive lacing up her dark grullo legs and dusting her boring slate grey belly. Not to mention the sting of it as it caked into a fresh wound.
A frustrated growl purred her annoyance. Had she wings or bloody magic she'd have just flown here, but no. Cursed with utter normalcy she had to -ugh and it was just awful too! She'd never admit to anyone how long she'd huddled miserably on the far shore, waiting for nearly eternity for the blasted tide to chill-the-hell-out. Once it was low enough to show a slender little sandbar, she scuttled across before anyone could see her at her worst. Her hair was a ratty mess; wind-whipped and tangled, and stiff with salty moisture. A fair bit of sand dusting there, too, no doubt.
This terrible gash on her foreleg certainly didn't help her appearances. If she had not already been well familiar with hard times, she might have burst into pathetic tears, but really this was nothing a good wash couldn't fix. Assuming they had fresh water here.
Ugh! What was she thinking?
Wallace