for every tyrant, a tear for the vulnerable
in every lost soul, the bones of a miracle
From Hyaline she followed the river, passed cautiously through the foothills of The Mountain, raced joyfully through the meadow. She is not sick. Not yet. It seems inevitable, so many have fallen already but Kensa has found herself unable to continue to linger on her fears. Life has gone on, each day the sun rises, more snow falls (she lives in the mountains but she is no great fan of snow), and Beqanna continues to sustain the little bugs on its back.
Upon arriving in the field, once more in winter, she again finds it an ugly grey place. It is not as busy as it had been last winter, but she’d hardly seen a soul during her journey down here. Many we’re keeping themselves separated from strangers in order to avoid infection. Kensa is not. The day she had volunteered to leave the safe land of Silver Cove and watch over Hyaline she had signed her name to a contract that stated she would not turn her back on her home, on the sick, on the lost looking for the Sanctuary that has so long waited in the mountains of her home.
She is not special, she has no gifts other than her personality and her rough cut beauty. But still she braves the wide world with the same bright tenacity she always has.
Scanning the field with her clear topaz eyes she cannot miss the bright glow of raging flames. Bounding through the snow to investigate she soon finds herself about 20 feet from the pyre and she thinks--is that a horse burning in those flames? Curiosity keeps her eyes trained on the sight but she tosses her head in a nervousness that she cannot help until the emergence of a grulla painted stallion stills her. He is perfect, formed with an artistry that keeps her silent for a long moment...and then he is turning towards her, and her open surprised face, colored by awe, turns to a soft smile. She is not shy, but the surprise of this strangers...whatever that was...has stolen her words.
“What...just happened?” She asks the stranger in a soft voice, stepping closer, trying to pretend to be appropriately wary but she is bursting to be near the stranger, to check if he is flesh and blood. She stretches her muzzle to greet him, to breath him in and see if he smells of wood smoke or just of stallion.
@[Rouhi] HELLO!
