The Lost Islands
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And it's up to us to figure out the rest






There is no love, just appetite.
And it's consequences keep you up at night.



Kasabian felt strong, alive and alert. The storms that plagued the Ridge for the majority of the summer season were relentless, making the usual treks across his rock-riddled landscape much slower than normal. But still, he had carried on, through the rain and howling gusts, monitoring those that dwelled within, from the overarching peaks of his homeland. The tick in his hip and pulsing pain from his bowed tendon hindered him at first. The constant swims from the common gates to the island of Atlantis kept his ailments in a constant state of seething, annoying pain. But that's life, Kasabian concluded. He did his best not to let his scars wear him down. His gentle limp and shortened stride was a sign of a life well lived, is all.

It didn't bother him that he limped sometimes, or that his gait would never be completely sound going forward. He wore his injuries, among other bumps and bruises, as a badge of honor. Proof of life, adventure, lessons learned, well, at least thus far. But the constant state of motion made him stronger. His tick, the hump in his walk from his clicking hip, was less visible now that muscle and scar tissue had formed over it. Even his weak leg felt stronger and more sturdy underneath his weight.

So the buckskin stallion was in high spirits on this fine day. There was a gentle sway in his gait, a fluidity he hadn't felt in some time. A thick, dark tail tickled at his hocks as he carried forward, eyes set on Pilar. "Well, the limp from my leg came from a run-in with a coyote in the plains very far away from here, back on the mainland." Golden lobes pricked forward as he gauged her interest. "And the tick in my hip, well, that was from a period in my life when I liked to scale mountains." The second was a bit of a fib, of course. Kasabian had merely attempted, and failed, to scale a short cliff and instead lost his balance and tumbled down the side. But that wasn't as interesting. "How bout we race on the way to Paradise? And maybe I'll tell you my stories."

A gentle grin appeared across his whiskered maw, content to be in her company.

KASABiAN
8 | Buckskin | Stallion | Arabian X Thoroughbred X Mustang X Halflinger | 16. 1 | © Vinyl







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