So much had changed, and yet the Desert still looked the same. The moon hung fat and pale above her, and the illumination it cast obscured reality more than it revealed the truth. A small cactus rose above a long shadow, and various dips and imperfections in the hard ground added an illusion of hilliness. El Aran knew she was no longer in her war-ravaged homeland, but it was easy to pretend the peaceful Desert on the Islands of the Lost was home. Sand, darkness, and lies: both lands boasted similar traits.
The black seer stood with her hooves sunk in loose sand as she stared across the flat, still territory. Behind her, as dependable as the rising sun, was the oasis she had occupied with her son since his birth. “Aşk, onu kurtarmak,” she prayed. Her voice hung on the crisp night air, as alone as she was. This Desert had been abandoned for a long, long time.
El Aran took solace in the silence. She turned her head to rake her teeth across the front of her barrel and relieve an itch as she considered her circumstances. The Desert was empty, save for the lone black mare who would once more sink her hooves so deeply into the land that she would be rooted there, as irrevocable as the sky and the sand that covered the territory. Her dull black coat bore a few more scars than it had since she’d lived on the Islands, and her large, dark eyes were still heavy with her experiences. El Aran lifted her head and flicked her ears forward. Those who knew the black mare would not see much change in her. She still stood with her head up, hooves planted and her tail half-flagged.
The seer might have been alone, but it was clear that she was in no way debilitated by it.
el aran
Seer of Aşk. |