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The Lost Islands
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this sordid affair
Posted on December 13, 2018 at 07:09:00 PM by evren


Evren erupts from the sea like a breaching whale. Her legs are a flurry of movement beneath her, crashing through the shallow water like pistons, while her soaked tresses slap against her skin and scatter salty droplets in the air. She canters up the length of the beach, then cuts across the wet sand, her hooves throwing up clods of it in her wake.

Abruptly, she stops. Evren’s legs are trembling, and her breath is coming hard and fast, steaming into the air. Her lungs burn. Her nostrils sting from the saltwater. She is eyeballing the landscape before her for any sign of life, but the bare trees, knitted together like laced fingers, appear empty. Too empty.

Her anger had carried her here, but now it - along with the lion’s share of her optimism - dissipates out of her like a deflating balloon. Evren is not one to give up easily, however, and so she begins to walk with purpose, following the line of the coast at first, then turning inland once the trees begin to thin. She still does not feel at home unless she is in a wide open space, but she supposes she will need to get used to the change.

If there is anyone still here.

She looks off into the distance as she strolls, where the rolling grasses of the prairie spread like the sea. The proximity to Shamwari - if he even still dwells on Luthien - makes her stomach tighten with discomfort, but she fights past the feeling. A memory pushes her onwards: a memory of the last friendly face she’d met before she deserted the islands.

Here and there she finds suggestions of recent inhabitance - which are few and far between, and many more of which are stale - but Evren carries on. She nothing if not a mare with a purpose.

Evren eventually finds something useful: a small creek, twisting and turning like a silver ribbon through the trees. She satiates her thirst, snatches a few mouthfuls of grass to curb the sharp pangs of hunger in her belly, then mentally prepares herself. If there is anyone still here, they will not be far from a source of fresh water.

She lets out a ringing call, then waits in trepidation as its echo melts away into the forest.



7; mutt; bay tobiano; 15.3hh

line art by whiteligtning@DA, colored by leigh for shiva
html & character by shiva



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