06-06-2017, 10:24 AM
tangerine
face to the sun
She is exploring, alone. Tang has made a habit of spending her time on the mountain’s summits, she is perched atop one now. Her light muzzle is lifted into the sky, her eyes are closed, black mane streaming behind her; she paints a peaceful picture. Up high, the sun is brighter and the wind is strong - it carries stories to her. And today is tells a familiar story about a man, a traveler. Travelers have their own scent she has noticed. On his skin he carries the trace of a volcano, tropical plants, salt and… Warrick?
Her demeanor changes, her slender ears perk, her nostrils flare. She had been resigned that she would probably not see him again until the fall. Could it really be him, or was the eastern breeze playing a cruel trick on her? She tries to look, golden eyes hurriedly scanning the other mountains. She spots activity by the lakeshore, familiar forms of young horses, but not Warrick. She inhales deeply again, but the scent is gone and the wind has shifted, bringing her only the salt of the sea. But even that scent puts a pang of longing in her belly as the memories of their night together on the beach wash over her – the honesty and the closeness they had shared.
She has not pined for Warrick, her time in Hyaline had been lovely and she found the summer days passing quickly as the world spun on below her mountain tops. She had thought of him often and hoped he was well, she tried to curtail any thoughts other than those of friendship and companionship when she reflected on her winter in Tephra. But now that she was possibly on the brink of a reunion with the auburn stallion her feelings for him are overwhelming her. Feelings she had tried to suppress out of respect for his wishes.
A flash of bronze catches her eye, Amet. He moves quickly, weaving through the colorful foliage gracefully. Her eyes follow his trajectory and realize he is heading for the border on the eastern side of the mountain. Of course.
The painted mare begins to flow down the back of the mountain. Her ivory hooves slide as she rides the gravel down the summit. Soon there is grass; the ground is more stable and she picks up speed. The steep grade of the mountain side allows her to travel faster than she can physically run, in a barley controlled mixture of gallop and flight. Then, the ground plateaus and she bounces to a stop, dust and shale flying from the force of her halt.
She stands on the highland letting her breath settle, and watching for any sign of either stallion. Her heart is beating in her ears, and not just from the sprint. Tang can see the border now, or vaguely where she believes the boundary to be, but unfortunately the wind still does not favor her. It is blowing her scent away, probably spreading it towards the place she needs to find. And with all the new growth of the young maples her eyes are nearly useless in aiding her.
Frustrated, she lets out a call, a whinny high and bright. But she can’t hide a slight tremble at the end of it.