The Lost Islands
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We found each other in the dark






Through the black starless water,
And the cold lonely air.
On the rock restless seas.


He washed up onto the shore of an unfamiliar island, lucky to be alive.

The muscles underneath his sleek, soaked hide trembled and ached with exhaustion. His throat and nostrils stung from the potent seawater. The threat of being enveloped by the ocean for a second time had been great. But this time, Ruxin had come to accept this fate. As he paddled out from the shallow waters of the Forest on Luthien, his mind whirling after having witnessed the death of his twin sister, he swam with no destination in mind. He closed his eyes and willed for the end, hoping to drift to the bottom of the sea where no one would ever find him again. He could be free of the fears instilled in him by his abusive mother. He would be free of her clutches, free from this cruel world, and he could be with Talya again.

When he woke along the damp sand of another island, the small painted stallion assumed he was dreaming. Beyond the sharp, staccato pangs from the seawater in his lungs, he could smell the evergreen trees in the distance and the crashing of the gentle waves all around him. He blinked in quick succession, his eyes merely tight slits as he readjusted his blurry view in the bright sunlight. His ears were full of water, too, which muffled his hearing. Reluctantly at first, the young stallion lifted his head from the shallow water and the damp sand, his gaze wide as he took in his new surroundings. The beach was desolate, aside from a few boulders that jutted forth from the flat sand, strewn across the landscape.

Ruxin came to the conclusion that he was not in fact dead, and this wasn't what waits for them on the other side. It was the aches of his body that informed him of such as he began to roll up to one side, then extend his shaky legs in an effort to stand. He swallowed hard against his red-raw throat. He needed water.

He limped along with a swollen leg, the tendons and muscles pulled and filling with fluid now, as he tried to get as far away from the sea as he could. He could smell traces of others, of a stallion, at least, over the burn in his nostrils. But Ruxin didn't care. He didn't want to be alive anymore.

R U X I N
Chestnut Overo | Stallion | Evaline X Psychedelic | 14.3 | Photo © Carina Mailwald |© Vinyl





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