Was I left behind?
Someone tell me, tell me I survived.
My hooves sink easily into the loose sand. At first it's a bizarre feeling, the hot pebbles rising above my coronet band, the laboring steps I take over the hills. But it quickly becomes tiresome. My nostrils flare, begging for oxygen as my body tires under the relentless heat. It doesn't take long for my rich red coat to darken with sweat. The heat here is dangerous.
I amble on for some time without seeing anything of interest. Just sand. And more sand. There must be some kind of vegetation here, if herds of our kind do dwell here. I just don't understand why anyone would want to live here.
I was alarmed when, seemingly out of nowhere, a buckskin stallion appeared. A tingling in my gut hoped it was Kasabian, but as the brute approached, it became clear that it wasn't. This stallion floated over the sand with ease. He was of a lighter build of course, a short back and compact body with lofty legs and a dished face. It seemed he was bred for these kinds of conditions. I was obviously well out of my league.
Luckily for me, he approached with cautious curiosity instead of aggression. I had no business being in this place, I suddenly realized. I couldn't defend myself here even if I was forced to. Even if I wanted to flee, I wouldn't know which way to go. The harsh, humid winds of summer had scattered my tracks and I couldn't smell the sea anymore.
I bobbed my head in greeting, my wide, dark eyes shifting in all directions as I studied him, but kept a watchful glare on my surroundings. "I apologize for the intrusion." I began, watching him and keeping note of the distance between us. "It's pretty obvious isn't it?" I smile, trying to keep the conversation friendly. I wonder if he can tell I'm from the Lagoon. Felony was very clear about keeping our scoutings under wraps.
| Fresian Mutt | 15.3 | Chestnut | Evaline x Rook | Half-brother to Kasabian | Vinyl | Photo © kimerleecury |