PERSEPHONE

It was sweltering. Persephone could hardly catch her breath stood there, on the shore of Salem – the air was heavy and thick with heat. She did not move to shake the excess water from her mottled pelt – there felt no need, it seemed to be lifting from her skin even as she stood there.

Back on Luthien the ground was beginning to harden, the air growing sharp and bitter with the promise of incoming frost. Evaline had warned her that Salem was hot, and Persephone was no fool of course, but no amount of imagination could have prepared her for the intensity of the climate, even just before the dawn of winter.

She squinted into the horizon, her dark eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight, which seemed all the brighter for not being obscured by trees at almost every angle. Dusty rocks and yellow-orange sand filled the land before her, with barely a hint of green to be seen except for a few stray grasses and hardy desert plants.

Which way the Dunes was seemed unclear, but it seemed sensible enough to head away from the shore, and so she wandered on for a little while, until she knew she must have crossed the borders of someone’s territory. Whether it was Valve’s land or not remained to be seen, but regardless Persephone didn’t intend to go any further unnoticed and risk offending anyone she was trying to impress.

So she paused there, the sand clouding around her feet as she drew to a halt, and let out a loud, clear call.

all of your demons will wither away

mixed, bay varnish roan, 14.3hh