Seeking Refuge

[Volcan]

Volcan

Burn slow, burning up the back wall
Long roads, where the city meets the sky

As a child literally birthed from the mouth of the sand that composed this arid kingdom, Volcan had no qualms with the dastardly heat of the place. She was born from it, incubated in it until her magical overseer had felt the need to hatch the poor orphan; and now, she did not fear it. Had she entered the kingdom as this mare did, beaten and malnourished as she is, perhaps her opinion on the blistering sun would be a little different; but they both of their lots in life, and perhaps that is how it is meant to be.

The oasis the foreign mare plops herself down in happens to be a smaller one, one largely unfrequented by Desertlings. Most Desterlings, that is. The gangly yearling, head held proudly aloft an all too skinny neck, did not deem the small piece of paradise below her. Not when a stranger happened to be within it, anyways.

And she has a duty to this kingdom, as adopted daughter of the king - or something like that. It might not be the clearest lot, but it is with this lot that Volcan is very, very content.

Nostrils flaring at the scent of foreigner, Volcan immediately slips into a lope - one that she has been mastering of late, considering that not long ago, her spindly legs would fly all over the place instead of doing their proper job. Stupid limbs, she would curse. Today, all works out in decent harmony.

Slowing, and eventually halting just in front of the napping mare’s nose, Volcan surverys the woman’s body, regardless of whether she wakes or not. They are a similar colour, though Volcan’s roaned body is significantly lighter - sunbleached, as it were. Har, har. Aside from their smokey pelts, however, some things were clearly not in order.

The mare had been beaten!

Frowning, Volcan addresses the mare, noting how it feels strange to speak down to someone, considering her currently small stature. “Who has done this to you? Did they follow you here?” Her slivered eyes go to the horizon. “Additionally, are you okay?” A piercing gaze lands back on the mare, but not an unkind on. “There are horses here who can heal you.” The smoke-girl nods in curt affirmation of this fact, and continues.

“I am Volcan. And you are?”

This is not the end, this is just the world
Such a foolish thing, such an honest girl

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