you're the beacon / saedis, enniska, & any

[wound]

I t hadn’t occurred to Wound that the ocean might be a vague — perhaps impossible — term to understand. Her entire life had been spent with the knowledge that Beqanna’s shorelines displayed the endless lengths of the seas. She hadn’t considered, however, that those from Beyond might not know of the depth and width of the reflective, salty waves. It is for that reason that Enniska’s surprised question catches the silver bay off-guard. “It can have several names — the sea, the ocean — but it is not a lake. Those who grow up along the waves of the ocean know not to drink from it.” A fond memory twines along the tendrils of her thought. Her brothers had tempted her to try to taste the salty waves, to wade out deep enough that their foamy crests would not wash against the slits of her nostrils. And she had done it, fiercely trusting in their protection and security, and immediately regretted it. Wound chuckles quietly to herself and then turns her attention back to her new friends before the ache of missing her brothers holds her too tightly. When their hooves touch Tephra’s shore, Saedis races along the shore like a rocket. Wound laughs aloud, throwing her head back and enjoying the way the salty breeze tangles her ombre mane. She, too, finds strong joy her adoration for the ocean and its many components (the rhythmic pull and release of the waves, the moon-sung rise of the tides, the caw of the seagull, the taste of salt on her lips, the strength of the currents tugging at her legs) and it brings her happiness to know that one of her new friends shares that same love. “You are very welcome, Saedis.” Wound accepts the butterfly-kiss with a friendly action of her own, a touch of her nose to the damp curve of her crest, just below her glistening, salt-smelling locks. Her mouth is graced with a sunny smile as the pale mare races back into the pull of the surf. Although Wound enjoys the ocean just as sincerely as Saedis, she adores swimming when the moon is high and the constellations are reflected in the lulling waves. The silver bay turns toward Enniska at her question about the volcano and its possibility of eruption. Her brow furrows together for a moment and she mentally reminds herself to ask Warrick about the question. She didn’t want to outright deny Enniska of information, so Wound tries her best to respond regardless of her ignorance. “I would suppose we’d run for the beach with the intention of swimming to the mainland. I would have to ask Warrick about it though — that’s a new question for me.” She’s momentarily guilty at the thought that she might not have wondered about the threat of their volcano before. “Warrick is Tephra’s Overseer. He’s very friendly” — that’s a bit of an understatement in Wound’s case, with her swollen sides and very pregnant womb — “and if you ever see him around, he’s a bay stallion with wings.”

credit to nat of adoxography.