Her stay in Tephra has been undoubtedly pleasant so far. Although she has yet to involve herself in the deeper practices of the kingdom (she certainly is not suited for warring, but the idea of peace appeals to her gentle side), she has enjoyed exploring the corners of the island until she feels comfortable at last. Wound didn’t know it before, but growing comfortable in a new place has been a challenge for her.
Wound decided in the early hours of the morning (when the sun’s crest was just beginning to grace the horizon) that she would take a trip to the social areas of Beqanna. Spring extends its arms across the length of the world and although Tephra’s season remains humid and hot, she can sense the newness of life spreading. Wound’s body has not yet adjusted to the constant high temperatures of her new home and she spent most of the days covered in a layer of sweat.
When she had first journeyed to Tephra, the tide had been low. Wound has splashed across the sand bank to reach the shores of the island. She hadn’t realized then how Femur had timed their progression to avoid having to swim. It might’ve seemed like a simple thing — swimming, that is — but Wound’s malformed leg made it drastically different.
She had tried swimming to get across the channel. It had worked for several minutes, though the salty water often splashed into Wound’s nose and burned the cavities of her face. With only three working legs, it wasn’t long before she was exhausted from her clumsy efforts. Thankfully, by the time she was nearly drowning, the tide was low enough that she could barely touch the bottom and hopped along to the shore.
It had taken her most of the day to recover from her swim. Wound’s coat dried in rough, swirling patches in the spring heat, but she was thankful for the cooler temperatures compared to Tephra’s heat. She’d spent some of the evening in the field, watching for any prospects for her new kingdom, but any who seemed promising shied away from her with disgusted looks toward her undeveloped foreleg.
As night falls, Wound resorts herself to spending the night outside Tephra. She seeks out the happy chuckling of the river, wandering along its bending curves. The glow of the spring moon illuminates the rapids, shadowing the depths of the water mysteriously. Despite the threat of the shadows, Wound feels at home among them. The majority of her life has been spent cocooned among the chilly embrace of the darkness, where she could hide from prying eyes and uncomfortable staring.
She hides no longer.
The scent of another mare nearby draws her attention from her thoughts. Wound steps forward from the darkness further down the length of the bank upon the other’s hesitant greeting. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Wound’s dark mouth slips into a gentle smile. “There aren’t very many who spend their night hours near the river.”
Normally the dangers of the night — predators and darker spirits alike — come to satisfy their thirsts by the coolness of the rapids when the moon rises. Wound had seen them firsthand, when she spent both day and night sheltered by the watchful gazes of her brothers and the security of the darkness.
@[kota]
Wound decided in the early hours of the morning (when the sun’s crest was just beginning to grace the horizon) that she would take a trip to the social areas of Beqanna. Spring extends its arms across the length of the world and although Tephra’s season remains humid and hot, she can sense the newness of life spreading. Wound’s body has not yet adjusted to the constant high temperatures of her new home and she spent most of the days covered in a layer of sweat.
When she had first journeyed to Tephra, the tide had been low. Wound has splashed across the sand bank to reach the shores of the island. She hadn’t realized then how Femur had timed their progression to avoid having to swim. It might’ve seemed like a simple thing — swimming, that is — but Wound’s malformed leg made it drastically different.
She had tried swimming to get across the channel. It had worked for several minutes, though the salty water often splashed into Wound’s nose and burned the cavities of her face. With only three working legs, it wasn’t long before she was exhausted from her clumsy efforts. Thankfully, by the time she was nearly drowning, the tide was low enough that she could barely touch the bottom and hopped along to the shore.
It had taken her most of the day to recover from her swim. Wound’s coat dried in rough, swirling patches in the spring heat, but she was thankful for the cooler temperatures compared to Tephra’s heat. She’d spent some of the evening in the field, watching for any prospects for her new kingdom, but any who seemed promising shied away from her with disgusted looks toward her undeveloped foreleg.
As night falls, Wound resorts herself to spending the night outside Tephra. She seeks out the happy chuckling of the river, wandering along its bending curves. The glow of the spring moon illuminates the rapids, shadowing the depths of the water mysteriously. Despite the threat of the shadows, Wound feels at home among them. The majority of her life has been spent cocooned among the chilly embrace of the darkness, where she could hide from prying eyes and uncomfortable staring.
She hides no longer.
The scent of another mare nearby draws her attention from her thoughts. Wound steps forward from the darkness further down the length of the bank upon the other’s hesitant greeting. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” Wound’s dark mouth slips into a gentle smile. “There aren’t very many who spend their night hours near the river.”
Normally the dangers of the night — predators and darker spirits alike — come to satisfy their thirsts by the coolness of the rapids when the moon rises. Wound had seen them firsthand, when she spent both day and night sheltered by the watchful gazes of her brothers and the security of the darkness.
@[kota]