anyone;

[Nayl]

She spun the stars on her fingernails The trek here will become less frequent. The coast lies miles and miles from the forest with mountains, valleys, and a wasteland in between. It takes an entire day, perhaps longer, until Nayl is in the forest after having left the sound of lapping waves. The towering trees are the closest thing to the Jungle, but it lacks the humidity and the sisterhood. It isn’t home, but it’s the closest she will ever be to the tropical climate she had been born into. Nayl grimaces in her solitude, but when she looks up her face is marbled stone. They – whomever crosses her path – can never know the pain in her heart. It would be a weakness in this great world of change. The Before is no longer here. They have entered The After where everything has been reborn, renewed. When Nayl looks around nothing is familiar although Beqanna has been recreated from what it had. Everything she – they – knew is gone. It would be best to move on and to forget the Jungle, but she can’t. It thrums in her veins just as it always has. It was where she was born and her mother, grandmother, and many others beyond had rested their head and drew their first breath. Underneath the sunlight Nayl’s body shudders with the memories and the mistrust that plagues her thoughts. Naga, their self-elected Queen. Hestia, the chiding mare as Advisor. Unable to think of them without bristling, Nayl sighs and roves her eyes across the forest, desperate to distract herself from the Coast’s politics. Nayl covet and myrina's creation