05-11-2015, 02:35 PM
The voice is a low drone in her head. It isn't a request or a question; it's a demand, an order. Myrina looks up questionably but there is no one around her. There are only trees when she blinks away her hazy vision. Nayl is nestled in the shadows asleep. A glance is spared to the young child before the mare ventures away to abandon her child to the safety (or dangers) of the Jungle. She isn't sure what spurs her onward or even why.
Her thoughts suddenly trace back to Covet, bringing pause to her steps before shaking her head and resuming on.
Where she is, Myrina cannot say. Her golden flecked eyes drink in the scenery but it is all unfamiliar to her. So she stops. The voice had found her then and it can find her now. Her head is raised as she draws in a breath before saying, "I will." Obeying commands is what she had been trained to do as a foal and so she pushes herself now to put it into play.
Her thoughts suddenly trace back to Covet, bringing pause to her steps before shaking her head and resuming on.
Where she is, Myrina cannot say. Her golden flecked eyes drink in the scenery but it is all unfamiliar to her. So she stops. The voice had found her then and it can find her now. Her head is raised as she draws in a breath before saying, "I will." Obeying commands is what she had been trained to do as a foal and so she pushes herself now to put it into play.