i need nothing to travel the sea
The relief of the wind-break the trees provide is a blissful balm on her skin. Rivuline watches as Celina winds herself around the structure of a tree trunk. Did the tree leak warmth into the filly’s coat or did she truly love the forest so much? This is the first time the young mare has experienced the whims of the surface-world since her youngest years of life. Was it customary to burrow against the trees? The slender length of Rivuline’s neck is beginning to curve around the side of a nearby tree when she notices that Catcher is not hugging the trees. Awkward. Maybe it is just a thing to do in your childhood. Rather than continuing her movement, Rivuline dips her head so she can itch her neck against the tree’s bark. It’s a satisfying feeling, even when she had no itch to scratch.
Celina announces her home as Taiga and Catcher says she is from nowhere and everywhere at once. The word Taiga is unfamiliar in Rivuline’s mind and she doesn’t dare say it aloud in case she completely botches the pronunciation. Her amber eyes narrow in confusion at the thought of in in the ocean. Do others call the western ocean home but not truly live in it? It’s a confusing thought and brings a bubble of frustration with it. The western ocean’s tides are more familiar to her than the soft curve of her mother’s side or the sound of her father’s voice (both are faint memories that come and go only in her dreams). To think that someone considers themselves a dweller of the western ocean but does not know the constellations of coral reefs or the hiding places of the sea turtles feels like a betrayal to Rivuline.
“Yes, in in the ocean.” She gives a soft shake of her mane, reorganizing the dreadlocked tangles of white, soft blue, and turquoise that had been disrupted during her itching. As if to prove her point a one-tooth simnia, a brown-banded wentletrap, and a pear whelk slip from her mane and land with a soft noise in the snow. Three seashells scrubbed clean by salt and tide, now cold among frozen shards of water. “I saw a trail leading out of the water and followed it.” Rivuline pauses a moment and one ear twists as if listening for something. You are concealed now. They would taste smoky, I bet. Saliva rushes into her toothed mouth at the thought of their sun-smoked taste compared to the tang of the fish. The painted girl gives a rough shake of her head as if to toss the thoughts out of her mind. These two girls are nice, and the first to approach her in this new place. Rivuline needs them if she’s going to survive.
She needs to keep moving in order to control her predator-borne thoughts.
“Can I see your home, Celina?”
@[Celina] @[Catcher]