barefoot on a summer night
When Adalyn had woken up atop a Mountain (with thin air in her lungs and a writhing mass of horses crowding her), she had a fleeting moment of panic. Her heart pounded against the walls of her chest and she found that she couldn’t breathe as much as she needed. Someone had been there to calm her down (whether a face she didn’t know, or perhaps even the soothing hand of the Beqanna Fairy – her panicked mind didn’t register) and her feet eventually led her down a path until she could breathe more.
She hadn’t noticed the lack of her waters until she could breathe normally. Adalyn had reached out to seek water and found that there was nothing but an empty, still silence. And then the pains began. Sprouting from her inky shoulders, securing into her bones, twining with her muscles – there was immense, burning pain and then a sense of finality. Adalyn had turned and her eyes caught on a pair of feathery wings, gold like the color of her mane and tail.
She hadn’t tried flying with them until this day, and found that it wasn’t incredibly difficult. The ground disappearing beneath her hooves was frightening for a moment, and then it was breathlessly exhilarating. The high winds in her mane brought upon the sensation of someone combing her hair and she relaxed into it. Adalyn’s eyes could see much from above the ground – the fresh, shiny soil of the new territories, the mysterious, shadowed depths of the hidden mist, and the familiar, rolling hills of the neutral lands. She’d flown closer to the Mountain in a chance decision and that was when her eyes caught sight of the warrior women trailing off the mountaintop.
Her sisters.
Although Adalyn never said the vow of the Sisterhood (nor did she meet Lexa, or participate in a kingdom meeting), she still considers herself one of the Jungle’s warriors. A wild smile tattoos itself across her mouth. The black and gold mare angles herself closer to the traveling group. She flies above them, keeping pace with the leading inky mare, and eagerly scans the distance to see where they might be going.
The place they arrive at brings another smile to Adalyn’s mouth. It’s wild, torturous, and passionate. It reminds the winged mare of the Jungle, in some small ways. The sound of the ocean crashing against the cliffs and the sandy beach matches the wild melody of the Jungle. The distinct smell of salt, sand, and sea in her nostrils is reminiscing of the scents of flora, fauna, and wild creatures. She thanks Beqanna for giving them a place that does not linger in silence and peace.
Adalyn lands close to their gathering, gritting her teeth as she choppily finds her footing. Flying is in her blood, but she is still no master. Tucking her wings against her slender sides, the mare makes her way closer to the group to hear. The black mare announces herself as Naga and apparently the Sisterhood’s new queen. Adalyn doesn’t recognize any of the faces around her – she’s only ever met the mare with the prissy attitude – but she resists the urge to introduce herself just yet.
She waits until the others do so – first Vakarian, with the bay body and her eyes lingering on all of them; then there is Djinni, with the questions and the curious eyes; finally there is Sunday, from the rear of the group and with a history of the Jungle. There’s a pause in the conversation and Adalyn decides now is her time to speak up. She shuffles her wings against her sides for a second, feeling excitement rise in the back of her throat like bile.
“I’m Adalyn. I joined the Sisterhood” – she almost said Jungle, but they are not the Jungle any longer – “just before Beqanna shook things up.” A reckless smile rolls across her face. “I’m very excited to meet you all!”