Maugrim finally understood the extreme power of the ocean. He remembers watching as land melted into the sea, rocks and stone falling into the abyss of dark and angry waters. The ocean of Pangea had swallowed him also, cradling him into its deep abyss with cold, strong fingers. The storm gray girl was no longer beside him, most likely swept up in the strong currents to meet her death. Despite the fact that the patterned colt was sinking lower and lower into the freezing, frenzied ocean, he was strangely calm. He felt himself floating, weightless as the ocean pulls and pushes him with its sheer power. Bubbles trail up from his nostrils and mouth, the salt water stinging his dark eyes as he attempts to see within what would soon become his watery tomb. He welcomes it, ready to breathe in the murky and briny waters to finally become one with the ocean he so dearly craved and worshipped.
He does not remember how he got there, but the next moment that he opened his eyes, he was on a sandy beach with the sun sweltering down on his skin. He can feel the small push of the tide against his back legs and haunches, almost encouraging him to wake. Blinking wildly as he gains his surroundings, he slowly raises his head and curls his legs underneath him, resting his chin on the knee of his right foreleg. The colt instinctively runs his tongue over his dry lips, caked with salt and sand, cracking painfully when the skin stretched with his movement. He tastes blood and he smacks his lips together, staining the pale of his skin with the deep red. Seagulls squawk overhead, his dark green eyelids shrouding his even darker eyes from the brightness of the sun. As he begins to stand, he feels skin ripping on his shoulders and haunches, partially healed wounds from craggy rocks and coral that had tore against him in the sea breaking and spilling blood once again. He winces, ignoring the burgundy that paints his body and drips slowly down his legs.
Maugrim glances over his shoulder, another wound on his neck slashing open with the movement. The area around him was lush and filled with tropical greenery, while the calm and clear waters of the ocean look on behind him. The colt does not know how he survived when Pangea fell into the sea; he can only assume that the ocean had steered him to safety.
The colt’s ears prick at the sound of water falling back to the ocean and with a curious snort, squints his eyes to find the source. Immediately he falters, surprised to see the storm grey filly landing so carefully onto the beautiful, white shoreline. Still adjusting to the brightness of this new and flourishing land (that was so unlike his short time in Pangea), he blinks rapidly as she comes into focus. He wonders how she’s gotten here, seeing as she was standing with him when the ocean surged and swallowed Pangea whole. Unlike him, the ocean obviously had a different way of rescuing her from the disaster.
He snorts amusedly. Perhaps she wasn’t as terrible as he originally thought. However, even with a familiar presence nearby, he hopes that he goes unnoticed by her (and anyone else here on the beach). Without a thought, he turns his eyes away from her and begins to limp towards the treeline in the distance. Blood and sand cake his legs and body, his face twisting as he slowly and carefully moves forward into the stillness of the tropical foliage before him, where he decided he would become a ghost.
m a u g r i m.